#it's not cheap having four people in one house and i wanna move in with a friend of mine hopefully within the next two years or so.

[mermaus]

Sent in an application to the local laundromat in my town since the posting they had said urgently hiring, it's $15 an hour but that's not too bad. I used to make like, $12.75 when I worked in retail a few years ago. The required hour amount is 4 to 15 hours per week which might work out for me favorably since I've always pushed to work 20 to 30 hours per week.

Idk why but I feel like it would be pretty chill? From what I've seen they don't get crowded or busy which is good for a socially anxious person like myself and laundromats make a decent amount of money. It's not too far from home either so commuting won't be too heavily burdensome on me which is also good.

Fingers crossed it actually works out, because who knows? being a chill laundromat attendant might be my calling lmao

[constantcrisis19]

Hell Is Empty - Part 1

Billy Hargrove x GN S/O

AN: I wanna start off by saying that this is going to be an AU. Also wanna warn people that this is gonna be a pretty dark series, the story takes place in modern day with Billy already dead, having died at 17 in 1984. So if the premise interests you, I encourage you to check it out. More in depth warnings below.

Word Count: 2,796

Warnings: Major character death, child abuse, murder, graphic depictions of violence, alcoholism, bittersweet ending.

You reluctantly switched your foot to the brake pedal to slow the car as you cruised by the old, fenced in property, nervously eyeing the silhouette of the building against the indigo sky, grimacing at the ominous sight. 

You had somehow been coerced into visiting the rotting house on Cherry Lane during a party that Tara had thrown at her place, the deafening chants of encouragement and copious amounts of alcohol making you fold like a paper man.

You figured that you and the brave volunteers that offered to accompany you would check out the house and maybe poke around a little until everyone inevitably got bored when they realized that all the rumors about the house were just ghost stories and superstition, but now that you were here, you were starting to regret ever bending to peer pressure and saying yes.

Even Tara’s earlier assurance that she’d already been there once before without incident was beginning to feel less comforting, the entire property looked like a case of tetanus waiting to happen. 

Thankfully, because it had been getting late, you had the frame of mind to take yourself and the four other teens who had decided to accept the dare make a quick pit stop at the hardware store in order to buy some cheap plastic flashlights.

You made sure to park a couple of blocks down so that the car wouldn’t be found by any police that might patrol the area because of the stories that circulated around town. It was no secret that the house was a kind of hotspot for thrill seekers and trespassing delinquents alike and not even the amount of people who went missing upon entering the property seemed to be a deterrent. 

You carefully made your way up to the fence that surrounded the property, making sure to keep an eye out for approaching headlights as you scaled the chain link and dropping down onto the tall, unkempt grass, brushing your hands off on your jeans before directing the beam of your flashlight toward the house while you waited for the others to join you. 

Though, even with his flashlight, you couldn't see a whole lot of detail, but as you moved closer, you noted that the place was just as people had described. A two story house with dusty windows and peeling white paint on the dirty, time-worn walls. 

It had clearly been abandoned decades ago, the building left to rot away. 

Once you were all through, Mason boldly took the lead, passing you in order to approach the front of the house. Your stomach dropped to your feet as you tracked his progress, the hair on the base of your neck rising as you suddenly became aware of the distinct feeling of being watched. 

You glanced around, hoping to find the culprit among your small group, but was uneasy once seeing all of them bickering by the front door and facing away from you. You turned your attention to the opaque windows, doing a double take when you thought that you saw a silhouette standing there.

You were startled by a loud crack, whipping around to look for the source of the sound only to sigh a breath of relief when you realized that it was just one of your idiot friends noisily breaking the rusted padlock that was meant to keep people out of the house. 

You looked back up at the same window, your brows furrowing in equal parts confusion and worry when the humanoid shadow you saw was nowhere to be seen, and you wrote the entire thing off as a result of the creepy atmosphere making you paranoid.

You stood in front of the looming building, your feet feeling like they were weighed down by lead as you stared at the house, hesitant to enter.  You startled when Mason abruptly whistled to get your attention, waiting until you were looking at him before beckoning you to follow the rest of them inside.

Your throat clicked when you swallowed, trying to shake off the feeling of dread, and marched through the doorway of the ramshackle house with a confidence that you certainly didn’t feel.

The first thing you noticed upon stepping inside was how cold the interior of the house was compared to the humid air outside. It was currently mid July, so despite how late it was, it still felt pretty warm. And yet, despite what logic would dictate, the house felt like someone had left the air conditioning on all day, which should’ve been impossible.

“Hey, isn’t it cold in here?” You pointed out nervously, trying to share your concerns with the others as you crept further into the dilapidated house, but either no one else noticed or no one cared because Tara rolled her eyes while Mason made a dismissive noise.

“Quit reading too much into it. The house is old and drafty.” Was Mason’s flippant response before the subject was promptly dropped. Though, regardless of the fact that the others had brushed off the unnatural chill, you stayed apprehensive about the whole thing. 

The five of you came to a stop only a few yards from the front door -which you had deliberately left wide open- which was kinda at a crossroads, right in the center of the entrances to the living room, second floor and basement.

You took in your surroundings, panning your flashlight across the room and taking special note of the cracked door to your left, the space beyond dropping into a black abyss that your flashlight couldn’t seem to penetrate.

The room gave you a bad feeling that you couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard you tried.

“Everyone but Y/n, turn off your lights.” Tara commanded and there was a moment of hesitation among the group before Mason sighed and flicked his source of light off, the rest following his example until only yours was left, the soft glow helping to create an eerie atmosphere. 

Tara motioned for you to aim the beam at her and you complied, the shadows cast across her face making her look incredibly sinister. 

“Believe it or not, this house actually used to be occupied just a little over thirty-five years ago.” Tara began, drawing the attention of everyone in the room with her statement. “This dump looks much older than that though, doesn't it? It’s because of what happened here that the older folks refuse to go near here.” 

You felt a bolt of ice crawl down your spine, and somehow you knew that this wasn’t just some campfire ghost story, she was telling the truth. There was just something inherently off about this place, causing you to once again question what the hell you were doing there. 

Inebriated or not, you still had a sense of self-preservation.

“There was a teenage boy -not much older than us- who used to live here with his drunken father. He had a reputation for being a violent delinquent and was kind of a loner at school because of it.” She began, seeming to take pleasure in the group’s growing disquiet. “He would always show up with bruises and broken bones, but he brushed off any questions with stories of getting into fights or being clumsy on the rare occasion that an adult asked about them.”

“Of course, all of them knew that he was lying through his teeth, but they just didn’t care enough to do anything about it. He was already disliked among most of the school, so his situation was just ignored by the community.” She shrugged and her words struck a chord with you. You knew a little something about fading into the background. 

You flinched when you heard a loud creak that originated from deep within the house, the sound catching you all off-guard. You all collectively startled at the noise, heads whipping around to try and identify the source as Tara gave a nervous laugh, stuttering through her next sentence. 

“One day he just...didn't come to school and over a week passed before anyone bothered to look into his disappearance. When the police finally stopped by his house, what they discovered was the most horrifying thing they'd ever seen.”

You heard Nicole -who was standing next to you- audibly swallow, Jade shuffling closer to her boyfriend Mason, the oppressive tension winding tighter and tighter until it felt like a noose around your throat, constricting your airway.

“You see, the father owned a wood chipper that he would rent out. When it wasn’t in use he kept it stored away in the basement since there was a garage door there that made it easy for him to take it out when he needed it.” Tara continued as her gaze anxiously flicked over to the room on her left, and you felt your stomach churn, the acidic burn of bile rising to the back of your throat. 

You had the feeling that you knew where the story was going and it was nowhere good.

“The teen’s dad had gone too far one day, beating the teen to death before disposing of the body in the wood chipper out back.” Tara’s smile was bitter-sweet at the various horrified reactions you all gave her before letting the other shoe drop. “At least, the father believed that he'd beaten the boy to death. In his drunken haze the man didn't realize -or just didn't care- that his son was actually still breathing. Poor kid was just unconscious.”

Your eyes widened, your breaths coming faster as your hands began to shake, making the beam of your flashlight subtly wobble. Your vision blurred with the threat of tears and you lifted a hand in order to rub at your face, hoping to clear your vision and giving you a moment to collect yourself.

You could only hope that the teen had stayed knocked out throughout the whole process, though that horrible little voice in the back of your head argued that -if his father had been half as sadistic as Tina’s story implied- then the man more than likely put the teen in feet-first and no one would be able to remain unconscious through the utter agony of being torn to shreds.

A distant bang startled the group, your head whipping around to look at the cracked door fast enough to leave you dizzy, simultaneously turning your meager beam of light to the basement door. You stubbornly kept your eyes locked onto the door even as Tara kept talking.

“With no evidence of any wrongdoing -and a lot of rumored hush money- the father got away with murder and the wood chipper was left to rust, never to be used again. And that's where it is. Just beyond that door are the steps leading into the basement where the murder weapon is.” Her voice was low and chilling, nearly a whisper as she directed a perfectly manicured finger at the door that you were currently staring at.

“But the legend doesn't end there. It’s said that the father went mad. Whether the insanity stemmed from grief or guilt or something else entirely, no one knew but it’s said that he would rant and rave to anyone who would listen about hearing footsteps every night, the voice of his son whispering to him and trying to lure him down into the basement.”

Your free hand darted up to rub at the back of your neck in an attempt to ease the way that the sensitive skin there prickled when Tara paused for maximum dramatic effect, the other girl taking a deep breath -as if she were bracing herself- before speaking again. 

“And that’s where the father was discovered. Well...what was left of him.” 

You could tell that the others were getting as nervous and paranoid as you the longer that you all stayed in the house and listened to Tara’s appalling story. Which, by itself, would’ve been more than enough to put everyone on edge, so the oppressive atmosphere that surrounded you was decidedly not helping.

It felt dark, angry and cold, almost as if the house itself were alive and furious on the dead teen’s behalf. 

Seemingly oblivious to the threatening aura around them, Tara valiantly soldiered on through the rest of the tale. “Then one night, the father -worn down from his son’s endless torment- finally caved and joined his son in the basement, where he was then forced to go through the same thing that had been done to the teen, only the vengeful spirit made sure that drunk bastard stayed awake.” 

“And all that was left of the man when the police finally went to investigate his sudden disappearance, was the gore-splattered wall of the basement. Though the town kept it quiet, turning the entire thing into a scary story people tell their children when they’re misbehaving.” She said, her voice soft and careful as if she were worried about someone listening in.

You opened your mouth to suggest cutting this little meeting short in order to leave when you noticed movement in the beam of his flashlight, your jaw snapping shut with an audible click. And, to everyone’s utter horror, the door to the fucking basement began to slowly creak open. 

All of you froze like a deer in headlights, the room’s temperature dropping to arctic levels when a tan hand wrapped around the edge of the frame, wild blond curls coming into view as the figure began to lean out of the doorway.

Tara’s face blanched of color, eyes widening as she recognized who or what was standing in the door frame. The teen had a curly blond mullet and piercing blue eyes that seemed to glow unnaturally in the shadows as his gaze raked over each of you, sizing you up. 

Or memorizing your faces. A voice in the back of your head unhelpfully whispered. 

You could feel your hands begin to tremble and you curled your free one into a fist as the other one clutched the flashlight like a lifeline. Using your desperate grip to ground you against the odd aura he exuded, you felt like you were drowning under the disorienting mix of instincts simultaneously telling you to run away and move closer.

And despite the fact that you were the closest to the basement entrance, the blond’s didn't even acknowledge your existence, instead his sole focus was on Tara. A wide grin stretched across his face, twisting his handsome features into something nightmarish as he practically preened under everyone’s blatant fear of him. 

The teen never once spoke, just silently lifted a hand to crook a finger at Tara, beckoning her to follow him and -to your utter shock- she did. Seemingly satisfied, the blond disappeared back into the darkness, leaving Tara to follow after him. 

Her movements were jerky and awkward, as if she were a marionette being controlled by invisible strings, her eyes panicked as she moved toward the basement door. 

You didn’t move to help because you simply couldn’t. It was as if your feet had grown roots, tethering you to the floor so you could do nothing but watch as Tara voluntarily walked to her death. 

The girl sobbed as she passed through the open doorway and out of view, forcing you to rely on your hearing to track her footsteps as he descended the stairs. A few short seconds -that felt like an eternity- Tara let loose a blood-curdling scream, followed swiftly by the sound of blows landing and slurs being yelled out over her agonized cries. 

Yet...no one moved.

It wasn’t until the wood chipper roared to life that you were suddenly free from whatever had held you in place, the four of you that could get away sprinting out of the house in a panic. 

Though, because you were the furthest away from the exit, you couldn’t leave fast enough to be spared the worst of it. The screams of your friend rang out above the deafening rumble of the machine -shrill and terrified- before abruptly cutting off, ugly wet sounds taking its place. 

You burst out the front door just in time to see Mason help Jade over the fencing, the former reaching the top of the chain link barrier as you hit the fence, causing the metal to rattle, before you begin to climb. 

You dropped down to the other side and hit the ground running, following the retreating backs of the others as you made the long sprint several blocks back to the car, your shaking hands fumbling to get the keys out and unlock the doors to let everyone to themselves in before hitting the gas and putting the old house on Cherry Lane in your rear view mirror.

[anotherdayforchaosfay]

Seeing as my parents are visiting this month, I scheduled counseling for the week after. My mother is anti-max and refuses to wear one...which means she's not entering my home. She and my dad are flying here, and planes are a great place to catch all sorts of illnesses. I don't want covid (or any other sickness) for my birthday, tyvm.

Oh, they're gonna throw a fit about. We also have a no shoe rule. No outdoor shoes are to worn indoors. Bubby's D&D players bring slippers and don't make a big deal out it. The first time my parents visited us after the first was in 2018...and it was Not Good. Started with them getting rude and angry about being barred entry. When they said bending down on the porch was unacceptable...and got angrier when I brought chairs out for them. The house we were living room had white carpeting! Shoes are filthy!

We have no carpeting now, but I don't wanna mop the floors. Again. I'm doing that before they visit.

If they agree to wear a mask if I permit shoes, then I work with that. Let's see what sort of Karen fit they throw.

Needless to say, there's a very good reason I'm seeing my therapist the week after the visit. She's got notes marked that I may call her before then. I'm low contact with my parents. Conversations with my mom are almost exclusively about quilts, with a professional and less personal tone. I rarely speak to my dad because I have no idea what we can talk about seeing as all his hobbies and interests involve sports (he went damn near mad during lockdown).

Oh, and my dad is a Trump-Humper. It's absolutely bizarre seeing as he worked in military intelligence (that's an oxymoron right there). When they visited, my dad got really aggressive and hostile when it was very fucking clear we're not. His aggression and anger was very prominent. My mom expressed fear and anxiety because he had even watching Foxaganda all day everyday since Dumbass Agent Orange began his campaign. Folks, my dad thinks the guy is brilliant and must be respected.

Yeah.

Then they dragged me to an area almost two hours away, to have lunch with my bigot aunt and uncle, who lived several hours away (they have since moved far away, likely due to the PNW being too blue). It was a restaurant where I couldn't eat, and all four of them ignored this. No one spoke to me, and I was trapped between the window and my parents because they chose a booth. Oh, and they got upset about me bringing protein bars. The waitress heard me state I can't eat anything due to celiac disease and cross contamination. She said her son is the same way, and told me she'd have all the dishes used to prepare a salad washed, as well as the countertop. I didn't get sick, and my mom tried the whole "gotcha" nonsense.

I have issues with being trapped. Not claustrophobic, but being trapped and unable to leave. Bubby was working and couldn't come pick me up, my parents told me to "get over it." My anxiety was sky high, and I was fighting panic attacks. It got worse the longer everyone talked. The more they talked, thr more hateful their words got.

My uncle firmly believes all drug addicts and homeless people should be put on boat and taken to a deep part of thr Pacific ocean. Then have the authorities put a hole in the boat and let it sink. Yeah, he's that kind of guy. My dad said it's a good plan. I didn't say a fucking thing because it would've been dangerous.

The next several months were spent recovering from that.

This time, my parents are going to discover how much stronger I am. I will not cower, I will not bend to their demands, and I sure as shit will not be getting I'm a car with them. We're buying some cheap lawn furniture to put in the backyard. If they're gonna throw a fit, they'll be barred entry. Therapy has done wonders for me, and standing up to these bullies will be a good way to see how far I've come.

[ct-cactus]

General AU summary: the weather took a drastic turn (global warming or smthn) and so now there’s random weather shit happening all over the world (ranging in severity, but as the years go on it gets worse and worse). This spider goes all across America (not just NY) helping/saving/stabilizing shit. Unlike other AUs, the classic Spider-Man villains aren’t people, they’re the weather. Piper, this world’s arachnid, took it upon himself to name the bouts of weather that he encounters; Doctor Octopus is a tsunami, Electro is a thunderstorm, etc..

Name: Piper Picolo

Gender: trans male

From: New York City, NY

Age: 17

Height: 5’1

Job: Spider-Man (duh)

~~~

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Hair: Black

Skin Color: White

—————————————————————

MY OTHER HEADCANONS ABOUT PIPER

- [ ] Pronouns: he/him

- [ ] Gay

- [ ] English-Canadian

-his family moved to the US when he was 5

- [ ] Eats whatever bro can find

- [ ] Became Spider-Man at 15

- [ ] When staff from the Bronx Zoo came for a fun little presentation one of the spiders unknowingly escaped and went to the science lab where it knocked over a concoction of the really sketchy chemistry teacher

-the spider then crawled up Piper’s leg as they passed the classroom as school let out

-Piper then got bit and boom: spider powers

-when he discovered he had powers Piper hid it from his foster family

- [ ] Piper lived with Aunt June and Uncle Brent because his parents got arrested for child neglect, endangerment, and other charges

- [ ] Aunt June and Uncle Brent gave their lives to save Piper when the first bout of weird weather made their house catch on fire

-they protected Piper with their bodies

-Piper escaped with some pretty bad burns that would eventually scar

-he then lived in foster care where he was bitten by the spider a month later

- [ ] A bit of the ‘tism

- [ ] Has a pet pigeon

-he named it Reginald Winston

- [ ] Gets all the traditional spider powers except he produces his own webs

-like Tobey Maguire’s spider-man

- [ ] Sleep deprived

- [ ] His suit is colored after June and Brent’s favorite colors

- [ ] Rarely talks because he has no one to talk to

- [ ] Touch starved

- [ ] After two years of being Spider-Man the Spot popped up out of nowhere and used him as a shield

-he was then stuck between Spot and four other spider people (Miles, Gwen, Pavitr, and Hobie)

-after staring at each other Piper elbows the Spot in the face

-he helped the crew fight off the Spot until he fled into another dimension

-he then got dragged to the spider verse

- [ ] Comments a lot in his head because he never had anyone to say them to

- [ ] Sarcastic

- [ ] Shy when he meets new people that he has to spend more than ten seconds talking to but after he warms up he’s a chatterbox

- [ ] He’s the National Neighborhood Spider-Man

- [ ] Long and messy hair because he has no hairbrush (where tf would he find one)

-if he needs to cut his hair he just uses a shard of glass

- [ ] Terrible fashion sense

- [ ] Burn marks covering the right side (his left) of the face, arms, legs, and side

—————————————————————

Incorrect Quotes

Piper: We got a free day now. What do you wanna do? Eat? Sleep? Nap? Snack?

Piper: I just wanted to say that over the years, I have come to regard you as… people I met.

Piper at the beginning of the weather apocalypse: I just learned a way to get stuff on the cheap. Steal it!

Piper: The shadow realm? No, I’m sending you to Ohio!

Piper: The last time I went to an urgent care clinic, I checked off 'excessive crying' on the symptom list, and then the nurse got really confused and said that was meant for babies.

Piper: I am very small and I have no money, so you can imagine the kind of stress that I'm under.

[ssplague]

Alpha Bakugou & his late blooming Omega girlfriend 🌬🥀

PART TWO

Honorable mentions: @jazzylove @bakugoismisunderstood @koreylive

Okay since so many of you seemed to really enjoy this “Just thinking about”, I’m turning it into a short story. I’m thinking it will have four parts all together (including the original post). So I know I’d said that I’d give you a nice big dose of Scumbag Suki this update, buuuut that was before I knew this was going to take off like it did 🙈 The next one is entirely his POV so you’ll get your fill then!

Part 3

🌌✨🌠

“Suki, did you really have to be that harsh towards Izuku when we left the playground earlier? I know you dislike him now but….”

You trail off as you get settled on the plush, blanket lined floor of the small tent you and Bakugou had set up in your backyard. Supposedly there was going to be “A shit load of shooting stars tonight!” acording to one of your classmates. You were excited and insisted on staying up to watch, and as usual, Katsuki inserts himself into any and everything you do. Therefore; The two of you had rushed home after school, asked both your mothers and pleaded to spend the night together out in the yard. Deciding that you two were still at the age where anything other than star gazing was unlikely to happen, they allowed it.

Battery operated fairy lights were strung along the roof of the tent and a small lantern illuminated the center, giving the inside a pink and orange glow.

“Hah?! No way was I about to let stupid Deku come and ruin OUR sleep over! This is for me and you ________, no one else….just…us” a light breeze blew in through the open tent flap and treated Katsuki to be briefly overcome by your scent.

The two of you had your scent glands come in around the same time and still weren’t entirely used to it just yet. All both of you knew is that you favored each other’s scents over anyone else��s. It was kind of getting embarrassing how much you were beginning to enjoy your temperamental best friend’s spiced caramel aroma. So much so you had to make a conscious effort not to lean into him and sniff at his neck from time to time. He was subtle about it, but certainly didn’t mind bumping into or brushing up against you more often than ever to get a whiff of your intoxicating fragrance. Even getting hit with a face full just now had his brain feeling sluggish as beads of sweat began forming along his hairline.

A voice inside his head started incessantly growling “touch her, touch her TOUCH HER”. Under the guise of getting comfortable he shifted his leg to rest up against yours and his mind quieted instantly.

“I….I know that Kat…I wouldn’t have invited him anyway!” Your face began to redden as you brazenly blurted out; “I like when it’s just you and I, we always have the most fun”.

He instantly perked up at hearing that, but he couldn’t help but ask; “So you like me better than him? You think I’m BETTER than him?”. Leaning into you as he waited for you to answer his question, eyes narrowed.

“You know I do! Besides….” You couldn’t help yourself as you leaned towards him and inhaled deeply “You smell so much better than him too!”.

Oh hell now you’d done it ________, you unknowingly opened the metaphoric Pandora’s box.

He didn’t speak right away, just smirked back at you and enjoyed the devious expression on your face. After another minute spent invading one another’s personal space you were first to snap out of it quickly muttering; “M’sorry Suki I..I dunno what happened I shouldn’t have got in your face like that!”. You sat back up and moved your leg so it was no longer touching his. Unable to comprehend the sudden feeling of sadness at the loss of contact, or attribute it to the fact that you were no longer touching him. Katsuki frowned immediately and scooted back against you, “S’okay princess…s’not like it’s a big deal”. His use of the familiar nickname only succeeding to fluster you further.

The next few moments were spent in silence.

Surprisingly, It was you that eventually broke it asking; “Suki do you know…d’you know what mates are?”. You immediately began to play with the cheap desk telescope you’d brought out to avoid looking at him, your heart was beating a lot faster now. The startled look on his face would have informed you that your question caught him off gaurd; Surely you hadn’t just had the same thought he did?! Well either that or you could read minds….that wasn’t very likely, thank god.

“Ah well my mom told me it’s when two people decide that they want to always be together and get sad if they are ever apart…so they live together….and then other stuff happens that damn brats don’t need to know just yet” he finished lamely, confused as to why he felt so strange reciting his mother’s words exactly as she’d originally said them.

“I get sad when we have to go inside our houses at night and stop playing together” you said, the depressed tone of voice sounded like it was happening right then. “Me too…I wish we lived together cause then you’d always be with me” he confessed shooting you a nervous glance. Your eyes lit up and you beamed at him when the idea suddenly struck; “We have to become mates now Katsuki, we have to!”. You got up on your knees and began frantically shuffling things around the tiny tent. “If we’re mates then our parents can’t tell us we have to stop playing and separate at night! We’ll always be able to stay together!” Your sporadic movement and sudden outburst immediately infected your companion with the same frantic energy, albeit nervous, but excited all the same as he stared at you with wide eyes.

“You’re right _________! That’s a great idea”

“I know!”

“So uh..umm how uh…how do we do that?”

You stop smoothing the blankets out to stare at Katsuki, “You don’t know how?”.

“No” he admits glumly.

You can’t hold back the distressed whimper that escapes you and Katsuki is immediately at your side trying to console you “Hey princess it’s alright-“. “NO!” you exclaim “We need to do this to stay together forever!”.

Then you remembered something; “I see my mom and dad do this every morning”. You roll up the sleeve of your jacket and bring your wrist up, simulating the motion of rubbing it across the scent gland on your neck. Katsuki nods his head in understanding; “Oh yeah, mine do the same thing! Let’s do that!”. He lays back and stretches his neck out, “You do me first and then I’ll do you kay?”.

“Kay”

You nod and smile down at him, shuffling towards his head and bringing your wrist up to his neck. You hold your breath as your skin makes contact with his and start lightly rubbing over his scent gland a few times.

“S-Shit” he says softly, squirming slightly.

“What?! Did I hurt you??!” You ask.

Fear immediately replacing excitement and distracting you from reprimanding him for uttering a curse word as you usually would.

“N-No it didn’t hurt…please d-do it again”

You do, continuing thoughtlessly as you become enthralled by his peaceful expression and relaxed as he starts purring.

“Your turn”

You take his spot laying down on the fluffy blanket strewn floor, shivering with anticipation and the slight chill in the night air. His touch warms you from the inside out and you gasp at the sudden sensation. Relaxing once more, you look up at him through heavily lidded eyes and return the smile he’s giving you.

Neither one of you has any idea that this situation is going to come with serious consequences.

Eventually you remember the whole reason you two had decided to camp out in the first place; “The shooting stars!” You cry sitting up and narrowly avoiding head butting the blonde boy above you. “Hey!” He snarls. You stand and open the window flap in the tents ceiling, just as you do you see the first “star” shoot across the sky. “Woah! Quick make a wish make a wish kat!”.

He won’t admit it…but he does, and so do you.

As more stars shoot across the sky the two of you lay together; Happily curled up in the blankets, snuggling up together. Occasionally one of you brings your wrist up and begins to rub the others neck lazily, while continuing to watch the dazzling light show taking place above you. Both of you end up falling asleep long before it’s over. The sound of Katsuki’s continuous purring, lulling you into the most comfortable sleep possible.

Well that, and how his natural warmth just seemed to consume you….

Warmth…so warm at times it could get uncomfortable.

Like right now…too close…too hot

Your eyes snap open and you take in your surroundings; This is your dorm room, you’re at school right now, safe. Your clothes and sheets are soaked through with sweat. Not just sweat apparently; After waking up more you realize your lower body feels disgustingly sticky. Then a tingling sensation begins at the tip of your toes, rapidly spreading up your legs until it reaches the special place between them. Then it’s like a literal fucking furnace has exploded down there! Not to mention the heavyweight that has now come to rest in your lower stomach as it begins to cramp.

“Ow! ow! Ow!”

You try to feel around the bed for your phone, you could call one of your friends to come help you.Friends….that’s right they all left for the weekend! Wait not all of them left, Katsuki! He’s still here! That’s right, you were supposed to go over to his room, last night? Is it already morning? Fuck who knows.

You start to cry when you can’t feel your phone nearby on the bed, you don’t wanna look for it.

You don’t wanna be alone either though….Your scared. His room is just down the hall it’s not too far away, maybe if you just take it slow you’ll make it. You force yourself to get up, not even caring that all you have on is a tiny pair of sleep shorts and a sports bra.

You bend down to grab your slides out from beneath the bed and slip them on your feet before moving forward.

One foot in front of the other.

Your hunched over, one arm wrapped around your stomach and sweat freely dribbling down your face, coating your chest, sliding down the valley between your breasts.

Jesus, I must look like fucking shit right now.

As you make it into the hallway and start your journey all you can think about is how badly you want to see Katsuki. He always makes everything better somehow; That smile he wears just for you makes your heart sing normally. Right now you just let out a pained keen at the thought. Your inner omega has always been quiet enough to ignore in the past, but now she’s practically screeching like a fucking banshee inside of your head.

Just one word, over & over & over again:

Alpha

Alpha!

ALPHAAA!!!

With each screech your primal urges and instincts had began overwhelming you. Eventually reaching a point where the lines between the two began to blur. Making you feel more like a wounded beast that’s gone absolutely feral, while slowly dragging yourself down the hallway.

Once you get about halfway down you start to smell the familiar scent that you’ve become so fond of. Only it’s so much stronger and….muskier? It’s intoxicating, and so potent, you need more! Somehow your legs are moving quicker thanks to this new desperation manIfesting. Once you finally reach his door you have to stop yourself from breaking it down; Frantically pounding on it instead, and now you’ve started crying, salivating, and you’re just a goddamn walking train wreck… Somehow you don’t care, your appearance doesn’t matter, you just need HIM right now.

When the door opens you stumble inside.

The sound of his voice quieting your shrieking omega as soon as it reaches your ears;

“Finally decided to show up? Was waiting all fuckin’ night for you and…hey what’s wrong? Oh shit…fuck”.

Fuck is very right.

[separatist-apologist]

Are You Ready For It

In the middle of the night, in my dreams, you should see the things we do

Summary: When Elain Archeron's roommate can't interview wealthy business man and school alumni Lucien Vanserra, Elain agrees to step in.

Little does she know what Mr. Vanserra does behind closed doors.

Or what he'd do to her, if she'd only agree to let him.

NOTE: Since this is a 50 shades of grey re-write, there is absolutely BDSM inside. It has been re-written to include an incredibly amount of consent/discussion/enthusiastic participation. However, if BDSM isn't your thing, it's just not your thing. No shame in the game. There is also some light DV but that occurs from a villain and not between the main LI's, but it will be included in the tags on AO3. Please use discretion when reading.

Also I've never read 50 sog so my knowledge is based on what I've heard. This is more like 50 shades of orange

written for @queenofsilverfire and @sjmkinkmeme

beta'd by the incomparable @the-lonelybarricade

Chapter 1: Some boys are trying too hard

Read more: AO3 | 15k words

Autumn in Velaris was Elain Archeron’s favorite time of year. In between the start of the semester madness of a new year and finals, October was a personal sweet spot for the college senior. Elain was looking forward to the future, one that saw her on her own for the first time in her life. Her roommate, Arina, would be moving out of their little shoebox apartment to live with her boyfriend Jack and Elain intended to take over the rent full-time. She’d been working more hours for a florist, squirreling away everything as best she could in order to ensure she’d have enough to live on.

It was a small life but it was hers. 

Elain biked from campus to her apartment, a mere seven blocks from the ancient, storied halls of Velaris U. The majority of the people living in the four story walk-up where also students which meant at any given time Elain could hear fucking, fucking, and partying through the paperthin walls. Rent was cheap and the neighborhood nice enough though the trade-off was the landlord was not interested in doing any maintenance at all. The gray hallway carpet must have been two decades old and the paint was peeling from every wall. Inside the apartment, Elain ignored the creeping black on the shower tile, scrubbing it away only for it to return with the humidity every spring.

Housing was expensive and Elain, like Arina, was poor. Splitting rent meant they always had money for cute shoes and clothes and, when the mood struck them, a drink at the bar. Elain stepped inside to find Arina sliding on a tall pair of heels. She was a cocktail waitress at a local sports bar that exclusively hired hot, tall co-eds. Elain had been offered a job more times than she could count and chose to see it as a flattering thing, though Arina’s shorts were basically cheeky underwear with sheer black tights beneath and the top was an actual sports bra.

“Do me a favor tomorrow,” Arina began by way of greeting.

“Missed you too,” Elain replied, setting her keys on the dingy kitchen countertop. Arina winced, pulling her thick, blonde hair up in a high ponytail.

“I’m supposed to be interviewing some hot shot CEO type for the school paper tomorrow. He's a former alum and this is a huge favor. I can’t make it, Jack—” Elain groaned at the sound of Jack’s name, plopping onto the thrifted seafoam green couch. “C’mon. Don’t be shitty about Jack.”

“And Jack? Is he allowed to be shitty?” Elain replied. Jack, who was so far beneath Arina as a dropout, wanna be streamer with a paltry following of two hundred. Elain had more instagram likes on a photo of the sunset than Jack had views on every bad video he’d ever made. He didn’t work, mooched off Arina for everything, and still had the audacity to treat her like she ought to be grateful to have him.

Elain didn’t get it. Jack was mediocre at best and Arina could have modeled if she wanted. Men routinely stopped her on the street to ask for her number and had literal celebrities in her DM’s on instagram. Jack was pale and skinny, unwashed and foul-mouthed. He’d never liked Elain and the only saving grace had always been that Elain wasn’t willing to abandon Arina like Jack wanted. For four years, Elain had been Arina’s roommate.

She would have continued, but Jack was dangling the promise of marriage over Arina’s head in exchange for her moving in full time. Elain understood it—Arina would spend the rest of her life financing his life while he played video games all day. Jack lacked all of Arina’s ambition and drive. 

Arina didn’t respond to Elain’s question, turning plaintive green eyes on her friend. “Will you for me? Thrity minutes if that. I’m sure he’s way too busy. I emailed him all my questions this morning so all you have to do is repeat them for him, record his answers, and thank him for his time. Please?”

Arina, head of the school paper, wanted to be a journalist someday. Elain sighed.

“I guess I can give some billionaire the ‘ol razzle dazzle. What’s his name?”

“Lucien Vanserra. He’s got some fancy tech company.”

“Vanserra? Like the Senator?” she questioned. Arina nodded with big eyes.

“Yeah. His oldest brother is the state’s senator in D.C. So he’s well connected. Just give him some doe eyes—yes, just like that—ask your questions and you’re free for the rest of the day.”

“Fine,” Elain agreed. “But you know I lack all your charm, so don’t be surprised when he writes a very angry e-mail.”

Arina rolled her eyes, well aware that when men found charming about her laid between her legs. “Thanks for this. Gray called, by the way. If you want to call him back.”

Arina still had a landline, complete with an actual voicemail. She thought it was charming though Elain found nothing charming about the shrill ring of ruby red phone at seven in the morning. Gray was her very recent ex and not by her design. He’d ended things, saying he wanted to meet new people in the last year of their relationship.

And Elain was still miserable over it. He wanted to be friends but Elain wanted to be in love. She’d blocked him so he’d stop sending her memes because it made her too hopeful he had changed his mind. She knew he hadn’t—she’d heard he’d slept with some girl in a sorority that same night. He merely wanted to keep her on the backburner and Elain needed to patch up her battered, bruised heart. 

“Thanks,” Elain murmured, suddenly guilty she’d been so harsh about Jack. Arina only nodded.

“Don’t wait up. My shift doesn’t end until one am but I can never kick those shitheads out until three.”

Elain nodded, watching as Arina grabbed her giant white purse and marched out. Arina made twice as much money as Elain did on one shift, though the trade was men constantly tried to touch her breasts. Elain didn’t envy her that.

She spent the evening working on homework and watching television when she could take staring at her screen for a moment longer. She wanted to stay awake for Arina and was forced to give up early in the morning for bed. 

Elain woke in the middle of the night to Arina’s giggling voice and a man—Jack— stumbling their way through the apartment. Elain reached in the dark for a shoe laying on the floor and threw it at the wall.

“SHUT UP!” she yelled, earning exaggerating whispering and a distinctly deep, masculine voice that did not belong to Jack.

“You have a roommate?”

Elain dug out ear plugs just in time for the moaning to start. Grabbing her phone on the side table, she noted the time was three thirty. Elain wasn’t about to condemn Arina for a one-night stand even if she did have a boyfriend. Maybe this was the first step in convincing Arina to leave him. 

Still, Elain woke bleary eyed at seven am to shower and do her hair ahead of the ten am meeting with the tech CEO. Lucien Vanserra. It was the sort of name that belonged to some snooty fifty something named by some bored heiress who wanted her son to sound more european. 

Elain curled her waist length, golden blonde hair carefully, letting it tumble down her back before she spent an hour carefully applying make-up so it seemed as if she wore none at all. She knew those types—something about the name Lucien made her think he was the sort of man that liked natural looking women, when there was nothing natural about her carefully lined pink lips. 

Dressed in a green and blue plaid dress and nice brown heels, Elain grabbed Arina’s list of questions from the counter, a sensible purse, made her way out of the apartment. 

As Elain was walking down, Jack was trudging up. Blue eyes swept over her, a sneer curling over his lips. He always looked at her like that, like she was the most disgusting filth he’d ever seen though Elain had it on good authority she looked quite pretty.

“Arina’s not in,” Elain told him by way of greeting. “Early morning meeting with her advisor.”

“She didn’t tell me that,” he snapped. Elain only shrugged.

“Maybe she’s ending things. Fingers crossed.”

“Bitch,” he hissed, shoulder checking her as she jogged down the steps. It had hurt her feelings once, the way he so casually called her that. Now, though, it was nothing to her. Every woman who disagreed with him was a bitch.

And Arina had brought home a man that wasn’t Jack. For whatever reason, Arina had abandoned her deeply held loyalty and Elain would cover for her. Jack was just behind her, shoving her at the bottom of the landing with the flat of his hand. Elain slammed into the glass door as a result, wincing from the force.

“Clumsy bitch,” he grumbled, slamming the door in her face and kicking her bike as he passed. As if it were her fault he wasn’t getting his filthy dick wet at nine in the morning. Elain was pissed by the time she got on the road, made worse by shitty drivers in big cars that seemed to have a personal problem with cyclists. She caught sight of her face in the mirrored window of the Vanserra building, noting the purpling bruise along her cheekbone. Fucking Jack. 

She pushed it out of her mind for the moment. Get through this interview and then she’d call Arina and rant. Elain took a breath and plastered a smile on her face. Thirty minutes. 

The lobby was sleek and clean, all tinted glass windows and shiny, slippery floors. There was a coffee stand opposite the elevators and huge, potted trees to offer color to the otherwise very corporate lobby. She walked to the front desk where a pretty blonde in a headset stared at her phone.

“Lucien Vanserra?” she asked when blue eyes flicked to her face. The woman clacked long nails on her keys.

“Arina?”

“Yep,” Elain lied, flashing Arina’s student ID so quickly the girl couldn’t get a read on it. Not that she cared—that receptionist could not have been more bored if she tried.

“I’ll let him know you’re on your way up. Twenty fourth floor.”

“Great,” Elain replied, though it wasn’t great at all. She joined the crowd of nice suits and skirts all huddled around the six doors that would take her upwards, glancing at the mirror between two of the elevators. She would have been flawless had it not been for that bruise. It wouldn’t matter—she doubted he’d notice. It was merely a stain to her vanity and a reminder that Jack was the worst man she’d ever met. 

Vanserra’s floor was just as sleek and just as clinical. Laminate wood broke up the heavy, shiny tile from the lobby though the effect was hardly better. Another blonde at another mahogany desk was waiting with the same annoyed expression. “You’re early,” the girl told her. 

Elain glanced at her phone. Early by two whole minutes. 

“Sorry,” she replied, her voice betraying just how not sorry she was. Elain took a seat on a nice elegant couch, practically sinking into the middle. She had to cross her legs not to look ridiculous or risk showing anywhere the underwear beneath her dress. While she waited, she pulled out her phone.

Sorry about last night.

Thanks for not telling Jack. 

I don’t know what got into me.

Let me know how the interview goes. I don’t think I’m going to see him tonight.

Are you mad?

Elain typed out a quick of course I’m not, I’ll see you soon just as the blonde answered a shrill, ringing phone. Her eyes slid to Elain before she murmured agreement.

“Mr. Vanserra will see you now.”

Why did she make that sound so ominous? Elain gingerly rose to her feet, ignoring the irritated receptionist and her clicking teeth. Was it a requirement to work for the Vanserras that a person have the worst attitude known to man? Elain followed the girl, dressed in a nice pencil skirt and tucked in white top, through an open desk space where people milled about, working and talking and generally going about their day. It seemed casual enough despite the heels on the girl in front of her. Elain caught jeans and legging on more than one person. The whole back wall was a long window overlooking the city, allowing sunlight to pour directly into the room.

She knew the corner office belonged to Vanserra before the door was ever pulled open. Tinted glass made it impossible to see in, though she was willing to bet he could see everything. King of his domain, ever the micromanager. The blonde rapped sharply on the glass, her sour mood melting into breathless fascination.

“Mr. Vanserra? Your ten o'clock is here.”

The tall, leather backed chair swiveled to look at Elain understood what had turned the angry receptionist into a purring kitten. She blinked at the man staring back at her, his shoulder length, auburn hair loose around his chiseled, golden brown face. Russet eyes peered at her with clinical interest and Elain wondered how he’d gotten the trio of scars etched through his otherwise immaculately thick brows. A full mouth turned upwards in a polite smile and when he stood she found that he was tall, well over six foot, and muscular despite the suit that hid his frame.

“Thanks, Beth.”

“Of course. If you need anything,” she added, drawing a bewildered look from Elain. It was so openly suggestive that Elain couldn’t help her open mouth surprise. Was that how he ran his business? 

He didn’t react. “Of course.”

And that was that. Lucien gestured for her to sit across his desk in another large chair, this one with a seat firm enough she didn’t sink to her neck. Elain’s eyes glanced over the shelves of books and the table of neatly organized awards and diplomas.

“So. Arina Novak–”

“Elain Archeron,” she interrupted quickly. “Arina is my roommate. She was…sick…so I’m filling in.”

Why did he look so amused? He steepled his fingers in front of his lips. “Another journalist?”

“Botany,” she replied quickly. His smile faded for a moment and Elain knew what he thought. Young—likely no older than thirty—and rich, he’d imagined her coming to meet him. Elain reached into her purse for her questions while he reclined in his chair.

“What do you do with a botany degree?”

She shrugged. It was a question her older sister asked constantly. “Starve, I suppose. So, for my first questi—”

“What do you mean, starve?”

Elain looked back up at him, unnerved by his interest. “My sister always says I should have done something useful. It’s just a bad joke. I like making floral arrangements and event planning. Stuff like that.”

“Ah. Event planning for a wedding?”

Elain blinked. He was staring at her with such intensity that his words sounded sultry, like he was asking if she wanted to get married. Heart racing, Elain nodded. “Maybe.”

“My mother is remarrying. Maybe I’ll give her your number.”

“You don’t have it,” Elain said without thinking. A cheshire's smile spread over his impossibly handsome face.

“Easily rectified, I would imagine.”

She looked back at her questions. “Did you always know you wanted to–”

“This is the part where I say this was my dream, right? That I’m so fortunate to do what I love and I could never have done it without the education from Velaris U?”

“Is that true?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Maybe I’m just good at conning investors out of money.”

“Spoken like a true nepo baby,” she said quickly without thinking. Lucien’s eyes went wide and too quick, Elain realized she’d crossed a line.

“I—”

He threw his head back and laughed, the sound dark and rich like honey dripping over chocolate. “That certainly didn’t hurt,” Lucien agreed, eyes sparkling. “Who taught you how to interview?”

“No one,” she breathed, so utterly embarrassed she could have died from it. “I’m sorry.”

He waved a hand, revealing a well defined vein just beneath the skin and a watch that made his fingers seem longer, the whole thing seem bigger.

She looked away. “I ah…do you think your education was helpful?”

“Of course,” he agreed as Elain quickly scribbled his words down. “Don’t worry about transcribing. I’ll follow up with your friend so she can quote me directly. I don’t trust you not to remind everyone I am not the self-made man the media makes me out to be.”

“Oh. Then I’ll get out of you–”

“Stay,” he said with easy authority, the sort that kept her rooted in spot. “We still have twenty-five minutes.”

“I’m sure you’re a busy man,” Elain insisted, though she didn’t move at all. Lucien watched her appraisingly, waiting. 

“Not too busy for a current student at my alma mater. And if you leave, someone else will come in to talk to me. So really you’re doing me a favor.”

Elain very much doubted that. Crossing her legs, Elain couldn’t help but ask, “Why did you decide to do all this?”

His eyes glazed over, wholly focused on her knee. She didn’t dare move, certain he was just thinking though it felt as if he could see what was beneath her dress. He cleared his vision and exhaled a breath.

“I’m good at it,” he finally told her. “And sometimes you’ve got to lean into your strengths, right? I was never going to be an artist.”

“Is that a hobby of yours?”

She wished she hadn’t asked. His eyes went dark for a moment, that sultry smile back. “Not quite.”

Elain didn’t quite appreciate the sensual tone of his words or the way he was looking at her like she was a meal. What would he have done if it were Arina who walked into his office? Suddenly the blonde receptionist and her flirty words made more sense. He was sleeping with his subordinates.

How utterly cliched. 

“Well,” she began awkwardly.

“Sit down, Ms. Archeron.” her murmured and Elain immediately plopped back down before her brain caught up with her actions. Something about him exuded authority. Maybe it was the suit draped perfectly against his long, muscular body. Maybe it was the confidence in which he carried himself.

Maybe she just needed to get laid and any man looking at her the way he was would have been enough to make her obey. Elain didn’t want to examine that too quickly. Lucien cocked his head for a moment.

Studying her.

“What’s your plan after you graduate? Do you have a job lined up?”

“Why? Are you offering me one?” she replied, thinking of his receptionist. He was so utterly transparent, so completely absurd—

Lucien laughed again. “Oh, I don’t think you’d enjoy working here for a moment. Alumni help students find jobs all the time. Why should I be any different? I’ve been thinking on how I could support the school—”

“Maybe a scholarship,” she said quickly, noting how his smile never shifted. “Since you’re so fortunate to have so much.”

“Do you have experience in such things?”

She shrugged. “Do I need to in order to care about people less fortunate than me?”

“Touche, okay. I hear you. You find me spoiled and arrogant, then?”

Yes. A flush crept up her cheeks. She was messing this all up. “No, I…”

“It’s alright,” he all but purred, leaning forward, elbows on his desk. “Honesty is better than ass-kissing, right?”

“I suppose,” she agreed, shifting nervously in her chair. 

Pushing his luck, Lucien said, “Why don’t you give me your email and I’ll introduce you to someone I know in event planning?”

He slid an orange sticky pad and a rather nice pen Elain’s fingers itched to steal towards her. She scribbled the email quickly, wondering if this was going to come back to haunt her. It would be nice to get some help. Her advisor was utterly useless, uninterested in Elain’s future career and she lacked connections that other students had. Everyone else was lining up jobs so effortlessly and Elain was floundering in her interviews. If this man wanted to help her, Elain decided she’d let him. It didn’t mean she owed him anything—in fact, Elain very decidedly would not repay him with anything he needed. He’d get a thank you like anyone else. 

He glanced at his watch, frowning at whatever he saw. It was just enough time for her to jump out of her chair before he could boss her into sitting back down. 

“Well…this was…” this was what? A waste of her time? The new highlight of her erotic daydreams? “Thank you for your time, Mr. Vanserra,” she decided lamely. He rose and oh God she wished he hadn’t. He was like a dream, something from a fantasy and not real life. Men like him, with perfect bodies and perfect faces and the good sense to know exactly what cologne to wear, had no business walking around in real life. He offered her a broad hand and Elain accepted. His skin was warm, his grip firm.

“The pleasure was all mine. I’ll walk you out?”

And though he technically asked a question, he spoke it like a command. Elain didn’t bother to respond, merely nodding her head. She was oddly conflicted—he was so bossy it was irksome and so handsome she was willing to overlook it. That was a dangerous combination. 

Though ultimately, it didn’t matter. Lucien pressed the button that would take her back to the lobby and then made his way to the reception desk where his breathless secretary tracked his every move. She leaned forward, breasts all but spilling from her top and Elain was forgotten. 

She tried to pretend it didn’t disappoint her a little. He was merely a man very good at making people feel seen and special. That was his charm. She’d read too much into the interaction and now she felt stupid.

Still, Elain reflected on the meeting in her mind over and over, barely aware of the world around her as she biked home. Elain flung open the door to her apartment to find Arina on the couch, dressed in yoga pants and a slouchy shirt. She was frowning at her laptop screen and for a horrible moment, Elain was sure Lucien Vanserra had complained about her.

“How did it go?” Arina asked, brushing wisps of hair off her face. 

“What did he say?” Elain asked too defensively, dropping her bag loudly on the counter.

Arina didn’t smile. “That you were utterly charming and to let him know if we need anything else. Filled out all our questions. In and out, just like I said. Was he nice?”

And it wasn’t worth telling Arina the utter fantasy she’d let herself imagine. That a man like Lucien Vanserra, a person likely surrounded by a parade of beautiful, available women, was interested in college student studying botany.

“Yeah. Totally normal.”

“Good.” She snapped her laptop lid shut. “I need you to do something else with me.”

“With you? Or for you?” Elain sat beside her friend.

“With me. I ah…last night,” Arina took a breath, steeling herself. “I fucked up last night and if Jack finds out…”

“Fuck Jack,” Elain said automatically, though she omitted what Jack had done that morning. She could never bring herself to tell Arina the true scope of how awful he was. 

“A man came in and he was so charming and he was in this suit…he smelled good and he wasn’t being disgusting…I don’t know what happened, Elain. I swear, it was like…it was like someone else took over my body. I just wanted to be that girl, you know? The one that an attractive man wants.”

Elain’s mouth fell open because Arina was that girl to everyone but Jack. 

“He seems to think something is going to come of that night and I just…there’s this party this weekend and he invited me. Come with me. I’m going to tell him nothing can happen but I don’t want to go alone.”

“Why not just text him?”

Arina looked down miserably at her phone. “I don’t have his number. I’m afraid he’ll just show up and it’ll cause a huge scene. Please? Just one night. It’ll have free food and drinks–”

“Of course I’ll go,” Elain said easily. “If only for free drinks.”

Arina put her head on Elain’s shoulder. 

“You’re the best.”

LUCIEN:

Lucien reclined in his office chair, manilla envelope in hand, courtesy of his friend and partner, Jurian. Slicing it open with his finger, he pulled out the documents inside. 

Elain Archeron.

The very first sheet was merely a picture of a younger version of her–likely eighteen, likely taken on her first week on campus given it was her student ID. Jurian didn’t have much in the way of information. Elain was so clean she didn’t even have a traffic ticket. He’d watched her leave from his office on a cute little green bike, replete with a bell and basket. 

Jurian had dug up some things she’d written in the paper for her friend Arina—all on plant care—a few pictures of her that had been added to the paper, and then her former addresses. She’d grown up in the midwest which checked out to Lucien. She had that sort of sweet, down-to-earth persona that was refreshing to someone like him.

He hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind since he’d last seen her. Just a day and yet when he’d gotten home he’d had to take his aching cock in his hand and pump one out just to get through the night. Lucien couldn’t recall ever being so affected to the mere presence of a woman. Not like that.

It was her eyes, wet and brown and wide like a baby deer. She radiated innocence and he wanted to put his filthy hands all over her and ruin her. He would have bet everything he owned on Elain being a wild, bratty little thing in the right circumstances. Lucien set the paperwork back to his desk, turning his eyes back to her email. He wanted to talk to her and had no excuse to do so. He’d lied about the contact—he’d have to find one, first, if he wanted to make that introduction. He’d merely sensed she wouldn’t hand over her phone number without a reason. Lucien remembered being a college senior and how stressed everyone had been about finding a job. She was no different. 

Of course he wanted to help…only his help really was centered around her naked body and his cock. She didn’t know that. Not yet anyway. He hoped she might, if he could figure out the right way to approach her that made him seem alluring and sexy and not like a fucking loser. It was a fine line and he knew it. 

His door banged open and Beth stepped in, blue eyes bouncing between his moron brother and him. Beth was so obnoxiously obvious with her hot for teacher eyes that Lucien was extra careful with how he spoke to her. He knew if he or Eris ordered her to her knees, she’d have done it without a second thought.

Maybe that was what drew him towards Elain. Nepo-baby. Fuck she was funny and more importantly, she wasn’t impressed with him at all. When was the last time he’d fucked someone that wasn’t hoping for an accidental pregnancy or that her pussy was the one that would make him fall in love? He just wanted to know what it would be like.

That’s all it was. 

“How young is too young?” Eris asked by way of greeting, before Beth had even shut the door. Lucien suppressed an eye roll at her obvious interest. Lucien waited for her to close the door before answering.

“If you’re asking, you already know.”

“I fucked a twenty two year old the other night. Jesus, though…if you saw her body–”

“It’s like you want a scandal,” Lucien reminded Eris patiently. “She’s going to rat you out–”

“She didn’t know who I was,” Eris breathed, pacing Lucien’s office to mess with all his things. Eris and his nervous, political energy and his utter control…except when it came to his dick. “I want to lock her up in my house.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the press would love that. Cut her loose—”

“She’s coming to the gala tonight. Come with me. I want you to see her.”

“I don’t need to see her. She’s too young.”

“There’s free alcohol,” Eris said, switching tactics. “And Jess will be there–”

“I don’t want to see Jess,” Lucien grumbled. What a stupid, old crush that had been. She’d broken his heart more times than he could count and still he always came back for more when she got bored or lonely or nostalgic. It had been two years without Jess. Lucien didn’t want to reopen that door. 

“Free alcohol then. C’mon. She’s bringing a friend,” Eris added. Lucien scowled.

“I’m not interested in fucking some twenty-two year old co-ed.”

“Jesus Lucien, what’s your problem?”

“I’ll go,” he grumbled. “What’s her name, at least? Have Jurian poke around before you start making declarations of marriage.”

Eris dropped into one of the leather chairs, crossing an ankle over his knee. “Arina Novak. God, Lucien, she could model, you should see….”

Eris’s voice trailed off in his head. Arina Novak. Elain Archeron’s roommate. What were the odds his brother slept with her the night before Elain came in her friend's stead. His whole body tightened at the thought of seeing her again, somewhere outside of work where he could be looser, where a little alcohol might lower her guard just enough to appreciate what he had to offer. 

If he let Eris know he had any interest, his brother would pounce. “Fine. But I don’t think a twenty two year old is a good politician's wife.”

“She’s got a face for television,” Eris disagreed, clearly pleased his brother agreed. “And a body for porn. You’ll see.”

And that was that. Eris left Lucien with that little piece of knowledge when he still had hours left of his workday. He got shit done, his mind constantly wandering back to Elain in her tight, flared dress that showed nothing more than her knees and buttoned practically to her neck. Her cascade of loose curls that fell down her back in golden brown waves and her fucking full lips, the sort he could not stop imagining wrapped around his cock while her arms were tied behind her back. Lucien wanted to see her on her knees so bad it made him sick.

He went home and fucked his hand twice before he ever made it into the shower. It helped, if only a little and by the time he was dressed in a white button up tucked into belted black slacks, a jacket thrown on overtop, Lucien felt sane again. Like a man firmly in control and not ruled by his stupid, needy penis. 

He left his hair around his face before heading out, checking his phone every eight seconds as if she’d text. Not yet. But tonight, he vowed. Tonight he’d work her into dinner, would lay the groundwork to getting her into his apartment…into his ropes. 

He was early as he rolled up to the hotel Eris was holding his little fundraiser in. Gala, as if this were a charity. Lucien jogged up the steps to the swinging glass door and made his way through the wide, open interior of the lobby. It was an old hotel made from marble and glass and crystal, back when craftsmanship and style were more important than towering, sleek skylines. He could appreciate the former—he loathed the latter. 

The ballroom had been transformed into something straight out of the roaring twenties, save for all the people in modern clothing. A massive chandelier poured soft light across white and black swirled marble floors. A long bar at the far end of the room was serving pre-selected cocktails along with the obvious beers, of course. Waiters in coats and tails walked about with trays of food they offered to people sitting at round tables draped in lacy white. A dance floor was cordoned off and though there was a DJ, the music could have come from a small quartet of violins. All very tasteful for Eris’s chosen crowd and the perfect, ambient setting for Lucien’s slow seduction.

All of which was interrupted by his mother. Swanning over in a pretty blue dress, she grinned when she saw him. “Lucien,” she breathed, kissing his cheek. He was sure she’d left a pink stain on his skin. “I was starting to think I’d never see you again.”

“You know how work is,” he replied, though in truth Lucien couldn’t stand that old house. Beron, his father, might be dead but his ghost lingered. No amount of her engagement to Helion could alter that. 

“Mmm,” she agreed noncommittally. “You know, Jess is here.”

Lucien saw her the moment his mother said her name. Jess, with her straight, dark hair and her wide, coal colored eyes. She had glossy lips and her tits pushed up to her neck. An hourglass body taunted him, reminding her of all the nights he’d had her trussed up, that mouth gagging around him.

The thought used to make him ache. Their eyes met and Lucien was surprised he hadn’t had a visceral response. He merely inclined his head before turning his attention to the rest of the room. 

“Jess is over,” he told his mother without hesitation. 

“Well, let me introduce you to…”

Everything melted when his head turned towards those open doors and Elain Archeron stepped in. She wore a tight red dress and matching red lipstick. Her sultry eyes were all made up so they seemed wider and darker than before and her hair—fuck, her perfect waterfall of curls—hung loose around her face. The barest hint of breast peeked over the top of the nightmare she was currently clad in, the hem cutting against her slim upper thighs. Lucien’s whole body was tight again, his cock stirring in his pants.

She’d come just as he’d hoped he might. Beside her was Eris’s tall blonde—gorgeous, to be certain and yet Lucien was immensely grateful his brother had kept Arina from coming to her interview. 

Elain’s eyes swept over the room, snagging on him quickly. He couldn’t help his slow smile creeping over his face and was stupidly pleased when her face flushed. She wasn’t immune either, then. 

“Another time, mother,” he assured her, stepping away without waiting to hear her protesting words. Eris beat him to the girls, walking them towards the bar like an utter bastard. Elain glanced over her shoulder, looking away when she realized he was coming towards her. What was she thinking, he wondered? 

“This is my brother, Lucien,” Eris said with a practiced smile. Lucien extended his hand to Arina first.

“We almost met, once,” he replied. “Nice to meet you for real.”

“Thank you for talking with us,” Arina agreed, her golden face pale and nervous. Lucien could see the writing on the wall, even if Eris could not. She hadn’t come to fall into his arms. She’d come to tell him to knock it off. Elain looked at her friend with expectant eyes. 

“We’ve met,” was all Elain said, her tone very much saying do what you came to do.

“Can we talk for a second?” Arina all but whispered to cool, confident Eris. Elain squeezed her friends wrist before she left, turning her attention to him.

Finally.

“We meet again,” he said, gesturing to the bar they were leaning against. “Want a drink?”

“With you?” she asked, her voice breathless. Fuck. He wanted to hear her breathless in his bedroom. 

“Who else?”

And Elain, with her unbridled audacity, looked around the room. Lucien knew, in that moment she was no mere submissive thing but a brat who would need a firm hand. The realization made his cock ache against the soft fabric of his briefs and when she wasn’t looking, hips angled towards the wood of the bar, he rubbed the heel of his hand against himself to adjust. No need to let her know she had any affect on him at all.

Breathe, you dumb motherfucker.

She frowned, eyes snagging on someone Lucien vaguely recognized. The senior Nolan had stepped in with his blonde wife and their reedy looking son. “Him?” he asked, not bothering to hide how indignant the thought made him.

“What? No,” she breathed, looking back ut Lucien with those fuck me eyes. “I just…I know him.”

“How?”

“We dated,” she replied, eyes pinching for a moment. Lucien turned to study the man—boy, really. He was handsome enough in an obvious, eighties movie villain sort of way. Lucien didn’t know the Nolan’s well enough to comment on what it must have been like, though just by looking at Graysen’s weak chin, Lucien knew he absolutely did not eat pussy.

Elain, he bet, could use it. Lucien could too. He was distracted by the thought, of her riding his face, panting in that soft, breathless sort of way. Lucien could make her loud, could draw her out, could torture her for hours, keep her on that edge.

Fuck, how he wanted to. 

“Sounds fascinating,” he replied dryly, ordering a neat whiskey while she continued to stare. Elain jerked when she realized he had moved on, her whole face impossibly tight…and bruised. When had that happened? While she ordered a vodka tonic, Lucien brushed his knuckle over her cheekbone. 

“What happened here?” he asked, noting she’d clearly tried to hide it with her hair and a thin layer of carefully applied make-up. He turned his head to look at Nolan, wondering if he needed to take him out back and beat the shit out of him. 

Elain’s eyes widened, her fingers swatting him away. “I fell.”

Lucien stared for a moment, letting her see how little he believed her. “Face first?”

“I…can be clumsy,” his pretty little liar assured him. 

Lucien reached between them for her hands. He’d spent enough time around his mother, perpetually covered in those same bruises, to know that people who fell threw out their hands to catch themselves and people who were shoved violently or hit unexpectedly had soft, unblemished palms…just like Elain. She yanked it back.

“It wasn’t him,” she breathed when Lucien rose to his full height. ���Just some douchebag in my apartment building. No big deal.”

“No…big…deal…” Lucien repeated with glassy eyes, thinking of his own mother and how often she’d breathed those same words. “If you say so.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked, shifting on her feet to look at the clear, bubbling liquid in her hand. Changing the subject to shift his attention, but Lucien was single-minded. He’d find that dumbfuck and he’d show them what happened when someone bigger, someone stronger, pushed them around. He did not believe it wasn’t personal or even the first time. 

“My brother,” he nodded towards the pillar Eris was reclined against, talking to his too-young blonde. “Man of the hour, as always.”

“Does that bother you?”

He grinned. “No one cares if I stand here talking to you, so nope.”

Another flush crept up her neck. “Thank you again, for meeting with me. I know it meant a lot to Arina.”

“Sure,” he agreed, not caring one bit if he did Arina any favors. He wanted to know if she had enjoyed it. No way to ask without being a creep, so instead, Lucien added, “You should let me buy you dinner. Tomorrow.”

Her eyes were so big, her pretty, red lips parted. He had fight the urge to rub his thumb over her mouth, to smear it around her face. He wanted to see that lipstick stained against his cock and fuck, Lucien had to turn and face the bar completely to keep people from seeing the obvious bulge in his pants. 

“Dinner? For what?” she asked, the sweet little thing. 

“A date,” Lucien replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world—because it was. “I’ll pick you up…eight o’ clock?”

“A date?” Was it really so unbelievable to her he found her attractive? Surely that wasn’t new. Elain was easily the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. She outshone her friend and everyone else in the room without even trying. She had an effortless way about her and Lucien was willing to bet that when she wiped off all her make-up, she was just as cock-achingly stunning. 

“I uh…”

Lucien reached in his pocket for his phone, sliding it easily across the bar. She caught it on instinct. “Put your number in.” It wasn’t a request and Elain, without even realizing what he was doing, automatically picked it up and began doing what she was told. 

Good girl. 

She bit her bottom lip. Lucien resisted the urge to grab her by the chin and kiss her, forgetting where he was for a moment. 

“It’ll be fun,” he assured her. “No pressure.”

“I pay for myself,” she began, unaware of how much heat that filled him with.

“Absolutely not.”

Her fingers hesitated on the screen. “I don’t want to owe you—”

“You won’t,” he replied. He didn’t want her in his bed because she felt obligated over a decent meal. He wanted her in his bed because she was dizzy and sick with desire. “I pay for dates, though. You don’t owe me anything except your sharp wit.”

“As long as you understand I don’t have sex on the first date,” she told him firmly. Lucien almost demanded a list of men who hadn’t understood that. In time. 

“Very reasonable,” he agreed, not bothering to mention there would be a second date…and third…and on and on so long as the relationship between them remained mutually beneficial and fun. He’d explain it all tomorrow, he decided. What he wanted from her…what he wanted to give her. Start slow, start easy before working her into his personal playroom. 

Pleased to have her number, Lucien shot her a quick text so she had his phone number, too. “Feel free to text me anything you like,” he told her, letting some innuendo seep into his voice. She glanced up at him, eyes narrowing a fraction.

“You want memes?”

I want to see your pussy.

“I love memes,” he replied. “And conversation.”

“Noted,” Elain agreed, just in time for a red-faced Arina to stomp over, interrupting what was proving to be the highlight of his night.

“Can we talk?” she said, eyes cutting to Lucien with open suspicion. He merely waved the girls off, watching the sway of Elain’s hips as she went. She looked over her shoulder once, finding his unabashed staring.

I want you, doe-eyed fawn.

He’d have her.

ELAIN: 

Elain woke the next morning to a text from Lucien.

Good morning.

It wasn’t real. She didn’t know how to deal with some millionaire and his fascination. Had he really sent her a good morning text? She’d been so sure she’d imagined the whole thing, that she’d somehow stumbled into a hallucination that involved the absurdly hot Lucien Vanserra that Elain hadn’t even considered texting him, even when she left. She had immediately gone home to take a shower and perhaps alleviate some of the tension in her body beneath the pulsating water but she could hardly be blamed. After all, Lucien’s hands were so big and he smelled absurdly good.

He was going to realize that every time he spoke, all Elain was looking at was his mouth. She took a breath, inhaling strawberry and cinnamon scented air from the candle she’d been burning, mingled against the smell of burning, cheap weed.

Jack.

If Jack was around, the text was real. Elain was quick to respond good morning with a pink flower emoji before she stomped out of her bedroom in her sleep shorts and tanktop.

“Nice tits,” Jack said by way of greeting, staring at their television as he slammed around a controller in his hands. 

“Where is Arina?”

He shrugged. “She wasn’t here when I got here.”

“Then why are you here?” Elain demanded. “You don’t pay rent.”

“Bitchy as always, I see,” he replied. “Do you ever chill out?”

“Nope,” she replied. “Get out of my apartment.”

“Fuck you,” he retorted. “I’m waiting on my girlfriend and I have a key. Take your own bitchy advice, though, if it bothers you so much and go somewhere else.”

“She’s going to dump you one day,” Elain told him, practically vibrating with rage. “And you’re going to die alone.” He looked over at her with such obvious hatred that Elain yielded a step. “Arina’s not a dumb cunt like you. Heard Graysen was out again last night. Wonder why you can’t keep a man?’ 

“I’m going to tell her,” Elain whispered, the only card she had left to play. All at once, Jack exploded, flinging his controller against the wall so hard the drywall cracked. He rose to his feet, quick as a flash, to stand in her face.

“Tell her what? What a fucking nosy ass bitch you are? How you’re so fucking jealous that Arina has a man you try and sabotage it at every turn? Arina is going to figure out what a miserable, stupid bitch you are one of these days and cut you loose.”

“Maybe Arina will realize she could do better,” Elain whispered, her whole body shaking. 

“I hope you fucking die you stupid–”

“What’s going on in here?” Arina’s voice cut through Jack’s fury. Eyes wide and rimmed red, Elain didn’t have to ask if her friend had been crying. Elain took another step back and so did Jack, his fury smoothing into nothing.

“Just a friendly chat–”

“You said you hoped she died,” Arina pressed, clearly outraged. “Why would you say that?”

“Baby,” he tried but Arina held up a hand. Jack’s anger was back. “She’s fucking jealous–”

“Of what?!” Elain demanded. “All you do is sit here all day playing video games and smoking weed! You don’t work, you don’t help out! Why would I be jealous when you’re such a fucking loser!”

“See!” he tried but Arina was nodding her head.

“No…Jack…God she’s right. You’ve been saying for the last four years you’d get a job and you still haven’t–”

“My streaming—”

“Is never going to take off!” Arina interrupted, her anger burning hot. “I need help now, not for some hypothetical future!”

“I’m going to take care of you–” he tried, but Arina flung the door open behind her.

“Get out.”

“Arina–”

“GET. OUT!” she shrieked. He hesitated before ripping his system from their television so hard it nearly toppled over. 

“There’s someone else, isn’t there?” he asked when he had his things. “What’s his fucking name?”

“Common sense,” she whispered. “I should have done this last year.”

“I’ll fucking bet. I’ll find out, Reena and when I do…”

“You won’t do anything. That would require effort,” she snapped before shoving him into the hall.

“You’re a loose, ugly fucking bitch!” he screamed from the hall. “No one is gonna want you you fucking trailer park, daddy-issues cunt! Good fucking luck, Arina!”Arina didn’t react to his words, kicking her shoes off with a relieved exhale.

“You okay?” Arina looked at Elain, considering her words for a moment. “I think it took having a one-night stand with Eris Vanserra to realize how bad things were.”

“One night stand?”

“Yes,” Arina said firmly. “But it was a good night. He didn’t badger me one time and I know that’s like, a low bar but when I told him I didn’t want to do things from behind and he just agreed I had this moment of like, what am I even doing? You know? I feel bad I cheated on Jack but I needed to leave him. Eris gave me a reason, I guess.”

“And you don’t want to see him? He seemed interested,” Elain hedged carefully. Arina flopped onto the couch, nose wrinkling when she caught that stale weed smell.

“No. He’s in D.C. half the time and men like him never want anything serious. Even if he did, they don’t stay faithful. I see it all the time in the bar.”

“Lucien Vanserra asked me out. I won’t go if–”

“No, go,” Arina said, waving her hand. “Just be careful. He’s cut from the same cloth. He’ll always want more. Men like that know they can have whatever they want. Today it’s us, tomorrow it’s a different barely legal teenager. Have fun…let him take you somewhere nice, at least. Get a little jewelry out of it. Maybe a car.”

“Gosh, you make it sound too romantic,” Elain teased. 

Still, she was grateful Arina agreed and didn’t find it weird. The advice was a good reminder, too. Lucien was a grown man and so utterly unlike the other men on campus that he was practically in a different orbit. She couldn’t expect anything genuine or long-term for him. It was a first for Elain, who was so used to relationships that spanned years that maybe this was what she needed. Maybe she ought to take a page from Arina’s book and have a one night stand.

With that in mind, Elain put on the tightest black dress she owned, the one that just barely covered her ass and showed a generous amount of cleavage. She put a lacy pink thong on beneath and the matching bra, having shaved herself within an inch of her life. 

More tall, black shoes meant she won’t have to stand on tip-toes to reach his mouth and Elain took a chance and left her hair down hoping he liked that soft of thing. A sleek ponytail might have gone better, given she’d smoked out her eyeshadow and put red lipstick on again.

She strolled into the living room where Arina was still sitting, dressed down in sweatpants and an over-sized university t-shirt. 

“Jesus, Elain, why not take out a billboard that says you suck dick,” she said loudly, just in time for knocking on the door. 

“Want me to answer?” Arina teased. “Take pictures for prom?”

“Shut up.”

Elain pulled open the door where Lucien waited, eyeing the dingy, loud hall of her building with distaste. He was so ridiculously out of place she almost laughed. She wasn’t inviting him in, not when he looked so good in another well tailored set of black slacks and his shirt—blue, this time—was half hidden beneath a vest that hugged his muscular chest. He’d rolled his sleeves to his elbows and still had on the watch but it was his loose hair that made her felt wet between her legs.

Lucien couldn’t help himself, it seemed, his lips parting in a soft oh as he looked her up and down. “Ready?” 

If he was affected by her appearance, he didn’t let it show.

“Use protection!” Arina yelled just as Elain snapped the door shut. 

“No expectations?” Lucien tried to joke as she led him down the stairs. Elain watched him move, just a half-step in front of her. He was so tall, so broad…what was he like in bed? Was he the sort of man who relied on his good looks and didn’t think he ought to do any other work beyond that? Elain chose to believe Lucien lived up to the promises his big hands were currently making. 

“Don’t tell me you’re the sort that thinks clothes and consent are the same,” she replied, letting him jerk open the door. He looked down at her while she passed, his eyes so utterly dark she shivered.

“Your friend said to use protection,” he reminded her. “I just want to ensure I’m living up to your whispered expectations.”

Fuck he was so stupid and hot. “She’s just…”

Lucien’s smoldering look silenced the lie about to pour from her lips. Instead, Elain slid into the door he held open, reclining against the clean leather. His car smelled clean and masculine, like he’d just bought it that day and had sprayed himself quickly with a bit of his cologne. She wanted to bathe in that rich, spicy smell. 

Lucien jogged around the drivers side, folding his body behind the steering wheel. Elain forced herself to breathe, to act normal even though she couldn’t take her eyes off the muscle flexing in his forearm. Lucien cut a glanced towards, reaching for what she thought was her leg before he swerved and set it against the stick shift. 

“I don’t think you look like you suck dick,” he said after a moment and Elain, who had currently been imagining what it would be like to kneel between his legs, wanted to die. He’d heard that?

Lucien cleared his throat. “That came out wrong. You look nice.”

“Thanks,” she managed, just barely breathing. “You do, too.”

Lucien smiled ever so slightly, as if he knew he looked good. He’d be stupid not, she supposed, doubly so when they reached the restaurant and the hostesses eyes became wide like saucers at the sight of him. 

“Table for Vanserra?” His voice was smooth and dark and velvet, skittering up Elain’s spine before wrapping around her neck. 

“Right this way,” she breathed. Arina’s words rang through Elain’s head. What was it like to move through the world this way? To have people who always wanted you so viscerally? She imagined it was incredibly tempting and a good reminder that she could offer this man nothing but her physical presence no matter how fascinated by her words he seemed.

The interior of the restaurant was dim, with tables covered in thick white fabric and as far as Elain could tell, a pre-set menu. He was showing off, then.

Doubly, when she was taken to a rather intimate semi-circular table in the back. No chairs, only a long bench Elain slid onto and Lucien joined her on the other side until his leg was pressed against her own. She could barely think let alone speak which was just as well–Lucien ordered wine and other small plates for the table with practiced ease. 

He put one arm over the back of the book, drawing her closer against his chest and creating a bubble around them that made Elain’s whole body throb. He took a breath, brushing her hair off her shoulder. “Good day?”

“Yeah,” she breathed. “I uh…” She couldn’t remember one thing she’d done. Lucien chuckled.

“I feel the same way. You’ve been on my mind.”

She looked up at him and fuck, that was a huge mistake. He definitely caught the way her eyes zeroed in on his mouth, the way she tracked his tongue moistening his lips. “I have?”

Lucien cupped her face in his hand, the size of him enough to hold her neck, too. He brushed a thumb over her cheek, over the bruise she couldn’t quite manage to hide. “You made an impression, calling me an arrogant, spoiled nepotism baby.”

“I didn’t–I never—you–” she spluttered but Lucien dragged that same thumb over her lips, silencing her entirely. 

“Most people only want to talk about how wonderful I am.”

“I’m sure you have…good…qualities,” she replied, the pad of his finger still against her lips, salty from his skin. Lucien gripped her chin, tilting her closer.

“Mm, I suppose,” he agreed, lowering his face. He was going to kiss her. Elain felt electric, her skin humming with anticipation. 

Just like in the car, Lucien swerved at the last moment. “Wine?”

Elain’s whole brain went blank for a moment, trying to catch up with what was happening. Lucien reached for the uncorked bottle and poured two glasses of red. He offered it to her, watching as she took that first drink.

“Do you like it?”

No. Elain had never been much of a wine drinker. It tasted like wine—Elain had never been able to identify a difference between vintage and type. It was just wine flavored, sometimes sweeter and sometimes not. “It’s fine.”

“Do you prefer white?”

“I prefer vodka,” Elain told him honestly, a little annoyed he’d put his lovely mouth so close to hers only to pull away at the last second. “And a nice cider.”

That clearly surprised him. Good. Let him see that all the wining and dining wasn’t necessary. Elain would have been perfectly content at a greasy spoon. His money wasn’t what interested her, besides. It was his hands and how they’d feel running against her body. 

Not that Lucien didn’t try. He’d ordered on their behalf, watching her eat beautifully plated creations with a watchful eye. What did she enjoy? Did she enjoy the flavors, the textures, the presentations? No, no, no. In fact, every new thing was having the opposite intended effect. It reminded Elain she did not belong in this world, that she should never have agreed to go. What would likely have impressed a million other girls only served to make her feel inadequate. 

Elain had put a considerable amount of distance between them by the time the last plates were cleared away. She could see he was frustrated, unsure of what he was doing wrong. Elain bet this had worked a million times before. Instead of trying to escape, she ought to be crawling in his lap and calling him daddy. Some part of her still wanted to, of course. It wasn’t as if Lucien had stopped being hot. He was merely unattainable to her now—a fantasy better left in her head. 

Lucien paid while Elain checked her phone brazenly. It was universal speak for a bad date that would absolutely not be replicated, a shame given how wet the fabric of her thong still was. Lucien kept eyeing her, letting the silence drag.

She couldn’t help herself, so annoyed with him for his stupid date and all his money and good looks that Elain dug through her clutch, pulling out a mirror and her lipstick, repainting it against her lips while he watched her with dark, nearly rabid eyes. 

“Well,” she began, snapping the compact closed loudly. “This was fun but—”

“But nothing,” Lucien interrupted smoothly. “Stand up.”

And fuck, Elain did exactly as he told her to. Lucien rose to his feet, putting a hand on the small of her back to guide her back to his car. A valet had it pulled up and Lucien, still showing off, pulled a neatly folded bill from his pocket and handed it over without a second glance. Opening her door, Lucien’s expression told her he was not done with her and dinner was merely a prelude for whatever he’d planned next.

This time, Lucien slid his hand over her thigh and squeezed. A rush of heat flooded between her thighs, filling Elain with want.

“Where are you taking me?”

“What would impress you, Elain?” he asked instead, pulling from the road in a dark alley and cutting the ignition. Elain hesitated. “You hated every minute of that, didn’t you?”

She blinked. She wasn’t used to being called out this way. Lucien leaned forward, blanketing her in his scent. “Tell me the truth.”

“Yes,” she admitted. 

“What would it take to impress you?” he whispered, curling his other hand against her face. His thumb smeared lipstick over her cheek and Elain didn’t think she’d ever been so aroused in her life. She could feel her heart beating between her legs hot and insistent. 

“You can’t impress me,” Elain lied. In truth, she’d been impressed when he’d sidled up next to her at the bar and offered her nothing but his time and attention. Lucien knew it. One moment he was looking at her with his wild, needy eyes and the next his mouth was slanted over her own. 

Elain moaned at that first brutal touch. There was no polite first kiss, no slow seduction. It was as hot as he was, burning like there was fire just beneath his skin. His tongue swept into her mouth, hand tangled in her hair. Elain was electric, made all the worse when he yanked her into his lap. She leaned back, softly beeping his horn for all Lucien cared. He reclined his seat as far as it could go, forcing her to lay against him while he kissed her breathless and stupid. His face was messy from her mouth and when she pulled back to look, Lucien’s grin was feral and hot. 

“Did you make a mess of me?” he breathed, grabbing the back of her neck. He nipped almost painful kisses against her skin. “Am I making a mess of you?”

It was so utterly indecent. Elain pressed her hands against his strong chest. “I told you no sex on the first date.”

“As if you were going to give me a second,” he replied, skimming those same hands over the curve of her ass. “Besides, it’s hard to fuck you the way I want in my goddamn car.”

“Then what…” she trailed off when his hand slipped beneath her dress, brushing against her fabric.

“Soaked,” he taunted, lips back against her own. “When’s the last time you touched yourself?”

He rubbing her through the lace, teasing and taunting just enough to make her breathless but not so much he was giving her what she needed. 

“Last night,” she admitted, moaning against his jaw, her hips rolling against his hand. Lucien chuckled darkly. 

“Tell me.”

“You’re not the boss—”

Lucien tangled his free hand in her hair and tugged, exposing her throat. “Tell. Me.”

“Shower,” she panted, so obscenely turned on.

“Did you spray the water against your pretty pussy?” he asked, licking the column of her neck. 

“Yes.”

“All spread out?”

“Yes,” she whined, back to rocking against his hand. Lucien pulled the fabric apart, dipping one of his fingers into her body.

“What did you imagine?”

God she couldn’t tell him, it was so embarrassing. Lucien pushed and Elain couldn’t help the whimper that escaped.

“Tell me, baby. What was I doing to you?”

“Stop it,” she whispered and all at once his hands were gone. Lucien’s eyes were wide, his lust replaced by real fear. Elain ground herself against him. “I can’t say—”

Lucien kissed again, needy and hot, his hand back beneath her dress pumping roughly. His thumb rubbed against her clit, drawing out moan after moan. His tongue stroked against her own, his claiming, devouring her whole. 

“Was it this?” he asked, his voice a rasp. “Was I eating your pussy? Was I fucking you? Tell me, Elain. Tell me so—”

“Yes,” she agreed. “All of it.”

“Is that what you want?” he continued, each kiss sliding into the next. She was building, grinding in his lap. Lucien pushed a third finger into her body, filling her entirely with his touch, his claiming kiss. He curled those fingers, thumb rubbing tight circles and Elain came apart all over his legs and hands in a dark, abandoned alley. Lucien rode her through it, kissing hard until she was panting and sensitive. 

And then she was back in her seat while he wiped his hand against his thigh like nothing had happened. He restarted the car casually, as if she couldn’t see the large, heavy outline of him bulging in his pants.

“I—”

“The first time you touch me won’t be in my car,” Lucien interrupted before she could offer. 

“What will it be like?” she whispered. Lucien smiled, pulling them back onto the road. 

“Have you ever been tied up, Elain?”

Not really. Graysen had once bound her hands up in silk but she’d escaped easily. She suspected Lucien was not asking to do the same. “No.”

He nodded. “I have a proposition for you, if you’re interested.”

Still coming down from her orgasm, Elain was in a lusty fog. “What kind of proposition?”

Lucien gripped the steering wheel tightly for a moment. “I’m looking for a specific kind of relationship, Elain.”

She wasn’t sure she liked where this was going though she waited for him to just get it out. “I’m looking for a submissive. Do you understand what that means?”

She wasn’t stupid. “What sort of submissive?”

“In the bedroom,” he explained. “There would be…rules.”

She was certain he could deliver this information without making it sound so sinister. “What sort of rules?”

“I can send it to you,” he murmured, cutting a glance to her. “If you’re interested?”

“And if I’m not?”

“Then we part ways with no hard feelings,” he replied easily. “It’s not for everyone and I’m not in the business of forcing women into having sex with me.”

“But…but you won’t have sex without these conditions?” she questioned.

“Precisely.”

And Elain, who was perhaps not thinking entirely clearly and still far too interested in him, despite the disastrous date, decided to be bold again. “Send me your rules.”

Lucien smiled. “You got it, baby.”

LUCIEN: 

He didn’t hear from her all day. Lucien had his contract sent over that very next morning along with another good morning text. She’d said nothing at all, filling him with cold dread. Silence was an answer just as sure as anything and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about how she’d fucked his hand in his car and how it had still smelled like her when he’d gotten in that morning.

He wasn’t going to push. 

Still, he was in a foul mood when he returned home, throwing off his clothes angrily around his large bedroom. Phone tossed on the bed, Lucien paced restlessly. He could have had her all the same—he could have started out by meeting her expectations before easing her into it. He wanted too much all at once and Elain in that tight dress had made him too desperate.

Considering just walking it all back, Lucien went into his bedroom again where his phone screen was lit up against the black blankets.

My sister is a lawyer. I don’t think any of this is enforceable.

Of course it wasn’t. It was merely an agreement between them, one he could set expectations up front so there was no confusion later down the road. Not that things couldn’t be negotiated but Lucien had learned early it was better to just tell people what he wanted. Lucien liked to fuck rough, liked inflicting pain and he liked doing it to someone who wanted to take it. Clear consent, clear boundaries. 

Consider it guidelines, then.

He waited, staring at the blue bubbles on the other end. She’d read it and she wasn’t running. Lucien thought that was positive, over all. 

So you’d negotiate?

Fuck he would have done just about anything if she agreed. Still, there were some things he was unwilling to bend on—the submissive and the dominant roles being the most important.

Tell me your terms.

Elain was quick. 

I’m okay with spanking but no belts.

Reasonable. Lucien could abide by that. Still, he wondered if there was a middle ground as he texted:

What about paddles?

It took her a moment to formulate a response. Lucien appreciated how thoughtful she was.

Maybe. Ease me into it and we’ll see. How hard do you plan on going in the beginning?

Not hard at all, at this rate. He took a steadying breath.

We can start small, work our way into it. See what you like and what you don’t. 

He almost asked her to come over and find out. He’d tied her up with silk easy enough to escape and lick his way up and down her body. He wasn’t sure he wanted to fuck her just yet—Lucien was certain if he did, he’d compromise too much and lose the things he enjoyed, too. More bubbles from Elain.

How will you know if I don’t like something?

Lucien tapped out his reply.

We’ll have a safeword. Say it and I’ll stop. You have control, too, even if you’re yielding it. If you can’t trust me, this doesn’t work.

I barely know you.

Come over. Let’s rectify that. No contract—just conversation and whatever else feels good.

There was a beat and then—

Okay.

Lucien sent a car over, letting her know not to get on her bike given the lateness of the hour. Turning in a circle, he surveyed his apartment through the eyes of a new person. He hadn’t invited a woman over in…fuck. Since Jess, if he was honest. Not that he hadn’t had his moments in between but those were quick and dirty and never in his bed. 

Not that Elain was a girlfriend—Lucien didn’t want that. He merely wanted a reliable partner for sex, like a step above fuck buddy but step below girlfriend. Most women balked at that. He could see Elain finding fault with that, too, but Lucien had girlfriends in the past. Too messy, too painful. Jess had taken his heart out of his body and pulverized it beneath her immaculate shoes. No hard feelings, she’d said after sleeping with his best friend at the time. It hadn’t worked out with Tamlin but she’d almost launched herself into the stratosphere. Tamlin had money, power, and prestige without working for it. Lucien would always be working, would always be merely the seventh born son. 

Eris was too into blondes to ever give Jess the time of day. Still, Lucien hadn’t wanted a girlfriend before Jess, either. He’d merely romanticized her to the point of divorcing her desire to accumulate wealth and power from what he wanted her to be—someone who loved him for him, and not his last name.

He closed the door to his playroom firmly, though he intended to give her a tour if she expressed interest. He wouldn’t bring her in tonight…but maybe soon if she responded well to some light bondage and a small spark of pain. Lucien tied up his bedroom, changing out of his suit for a more casual set of black basketball shorts and an easily removed white t-shirt. He tied his hair off his face and left only ankle socks on his feet. Tossing his clothes in the hamper and his dishes in the sink, Lucien thought his space, big as it was, was obviously masculine and still tastefully decorated and inviting enough. It wasn’t as if she’d see much, anyway. The hall, the living room and the massive glass wall overlooking the city…but Lucien intended to veer her into his bedroom even if all she wanted was to talk. 

Get her used to coming straight here, at any rate.

A knock on his door sent Lucien scrambling, settling at the last minute to project an aura of cool. He opened the door casually, surprised to see Elain also casual. No dress and very little make-up. He could see the faint freckles on her nose and that ugly purple bruise still blotted against her fair, flawless skin. She had a bag shrugged over her shoulder which gave him hope. Dressed in skin tight leggings, slouchy boots, and an oversized top, he realized he’d been right that she was hot with and without the makeup. Had she put more lacy underwear on for him? Something to remove with his teeth, perhaps? 

She fiddled with the tail of her low pony. “I just brought the bag in case…I can go home—”

“No worries. Come in.” He hadn’t meant to leave her out in the hall ogling. 

Elain’s interest was polite, eyes wide as she drank in the large paintings on the wall and his immaculate furniture. 

“You know, the wealthy man who is a secret deviant is kind of a cliche,” she said, dropping her little bag by the door as she came into his bedroom. Lucien closed the open closet and the bathroom, having already closed the bedroom door. A mounted tv against the wall could provide entertainment if his hands and mouth could not, and Lucien thought it better if there was only them and four uninterrupted walls. 

“Oh yeah?” he replied, enjoying her sense of humor. “I’m starting to think you’re a brat, Elain.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, pulling out her phone to scroll through the photos she’d taken of his contract.

“It doesn’t say anything in here about being a bra—”

“You just are,” he interrupted. “I can work with that.”

“So I don’t have to be your docile little pet on a leash?”

“Jesus Christ, Elain.”

“I also see you want me on birth control–”

“I like to fuck raw,” was his explanation. “Go to the clinic and get checked out. I’ll do the same.” She blinked. 

“What’s the point of this? Is it like a NDA?’

He almost laughed. “I would prefer discretion, but I doubt anyone is interested that seriously in my sex life. It’s more like guidelines, like I said. I want to be upfront about what I’m looking for.”

“And what, exactly, are you looking for?”

Fuck. He recognized that guarded expression, her wary curiosity.

“Like a fuck buddy but with rules. As long as we’re doing this, we’re not fucking other people. No dating, no romance and if you change your mind, no hard feelings.”

“No dating,” she repeated. 

His heart pounded in his chest. “No dating.”

“You took me on a date yesterday.”

Ah, fuck. 

“That was different,” he tried to explain, unable to explain the relief cascading over her features.

“No dating is good. Great, even,” she replied.

“Because I’m so bad at it?” he tried to joke. Elain shook her head, toying with her ponytail again.

“My boyfriend broke up with me a few weeks ago and I’m sucking at getting over it. I don’t want another boyfriend…and I don’t think I would fit into your world, anyway. I’m always dating and maybe slowing down and figuring myself out and having a little fun without all the pressure of everything else would be nice.” Lucien’s relief was punctured by one sentence. I don’t think I would fit into your world, anyway.

He shook it off. “So…is that a yes?”

“It’s a conditional yes,” Elain replied. “I want to get a feel for it because I’m all in.”

She eyed the leather restraints resting against his headboard. 

“There’ll be none of that tonight,” Lucien murmured, though he very much hoped to spread her out at some point. Deciding he’d hold off on showing her the playroom, Lucien joined her on the bed. “Let's start easy.”

She nodded.

“The only thing I want to know right now is if you’re my good girl or if you’re my brat.”

Elain sucked in a breath, looking up at him with those wide, doe eyes. “What’s the difference?” she murmured as he stroked her face.

“My good girl lives to please me and a brat likes to push my buttons.”

“How would I know which one I was?” she whispered, eyes fluttering shut. Lucien wanted to kiss her. 

“My good girl would tell me how she really got this bruise,” he whispered, thumb rubbing over the hurt. “And I’d reward her for being honest.”

She exhaled against his palm. “And what would a brat do?”

“She’d make me pull it out of her.”

“I think I’d rather be your good girl,” Elain whispered, unaware of how immediately tight his entire body went. That was Lucien’s favorite dynamic, though he didn’t mind a little brattiness from time to time. 

Still stroking her face, Lucien murmured, “Tell me, baby girl, who hurt you.”

He waited for her natural resistance, for her to tell him some little lie. Elain opened those sweet, wide eyes and he watched her give in. Testing herself to see how it felt. Trusting this moment and him, too. If he reacted badly, if he flew off the handle or punished her unfairly, Elain would back away. He’d promised to reward her. 

“His name is Jack. He pushed me down the stairs.”

Lucien swallowed his hatred. “Is Jack the ex-boyfriend?”

“Arina’s,” she said, scooting a little closer. He could see, from the anger and anguish warring in her features, that Elain needed to tell someone this. He was a stranger, harmless to her. 

Ex-boyfriend. 

“No one gets to put a hand on what’s mine,” Lucien murmured. Elain practically melted at his words. She wanted to be taken care of which worked out perfectly well for Lucien. “Do I need to teach him a lesson?”

“He’s gone,” she murmured, some of the fantasy shifting into reality. He saw the wariness return. Too far, though Lucien wasn’t about to let it go. Not yet, anyway. Maybe he’d put it on Eris’s radar if he was still panting after the roommate. 

“You’ll tell me if he comes back.” It wasn’t a question. And Elain, the good little thing, nodded her head.

“Good girl,” he praised. “My good girl. I reward my girl when she’s good. Do you want to know how?”

Elain nodded, letting him push her gently to the bed. This was easy, was just a test run. He had every intention of putting her on her on her knees but first, rewards. After all, Lucien had promised and she’d been honest. Elain watched, heavy lidded, as Lucien straddled her hips. “Arms up.”

She did exactly as she was told, letting him pull off her shirt and find the lacy black bra beneath. He couldn’t help his smile.

“For me?”

She nodded, biting her bottom lip. Lucien dragged a finger over the fabric, teasing her nipples just beneath. “Take it off.”

Her back arched, pushing her body against his erection without meaning to. She sucked in a breath but didn’t stop, unsnapping quickly and sliding it over her arms. Just like that, Elain’s small, pert breasts were all but in his face. Naked from the top up, Lucien wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone half as sexy. Her hair tumbled around her face, half covering her from view. It was all he could do not to bury his face between them though Lucien wasn’t above a little groping. His hands dwarfed her, taking them entirely into his palm. Elain watched, her eyes impossibly dark, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Are you going to be loud for daddy?” he asked because God he wanted to hear her scream. Lucien wanted to see her on her hands and knees and beg, but for now, learning that she needed to articulate what she wanted—and loudly—was enough. Elain nodded, still watching.

He licked the length of her abdomen, taking her pants in his teeth and tugging. She gasped softly and Lucien thought it was probably too easy to impress her. 

“When’s the last time someone ate this pretty pussy, Elain?”

She swallowed hard. “Um…”

He waited, sliding his fingers into the band of her pants to help shimmy them down her body. “I asked you a question.”

“I can’t remember,” she admitted, jumping ever so slightly at the tone of his voice. “A year, maybe?”

Lucien felt bewildered. “What about your boyfriend?” He said it with an ugly sneer. 

“He didn’t like it,” she said, utterly naked save for the matching thong. Lucien was obsessed with the thought of Elain dressing herself up for him, putting on cute little things only he could see.

Lucien lowered himself before her, slinging her slim thighs up over his shoulders. 

“No wonder you’re so needy,” he murmured, kissing her pussy through the fabric. “You’ve been neglected.”

Elain whined softly as he nuzzled against her, inhaling the sweet, musky scent of her body. What kind of man had this wet, soft creature in his bed and didn’t devour her? Lucien had been dying to have her pussy on his face since he’d met her, since he’d watched her cross and uncross her legs in his chair. 

Pulling her out of them, Lucien stared for a moment at her bare, soaking cunt. Spread open and quivering, Lucien couldn’t believe he’d put his fingers inside her and then drove her home. If he’d known how fucking sexy she was, he’d have had his cock in her, needs be damned. 

“Fuck, baby,” he praised, rubbing her clit with his thumb. Elain responded with a sweet moan. “So wet for me.”

He was toying with her, watching how she arched and wiggled. She’d come so easily on his hand, drenching his pant leg in her slick. Lucien had smelled her on his skin all day no matter how hard he’d scrubbed. Now he’d have her on his tongue every time he spoke.

“I’m going to taste you, now,” Lucien told her, breathing the words against her wet skin. “And you’re going to be really loud for me so I know what you like. Do you understand, baby?”

“Yes,” she breathed. 

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied. Close enough. Lucien would take it, at any rate. He hadn’t quite figured it out with her, though he was usually sir with the others. He was testing out the whole daddy thing, had always wanted that dynamic, though he’d never had a submissive who made it seem genuine. Elain looked so sweet, so innocent that it felt more natural. 

Tired of teasing and fascinated with the thought that there had been a man out there that hadn’t like eating pussy, Lucien slid his tongue up the length of her, just to see if maybe there was something bad about the way she tasted. He groaned, grinding his cock into the bed at the explosion against his senses. She was fucking good, better, even, that he’d imagined. There was a sweetness that clung to her that made her more than palatable. He could have bottled her and worn her like cologne if he’d had half a mind.

“This is my pussy now,” he told her, offering slow, languid swipes of his tongue against her trembling clit. “No one else gets to touch it. No one but me gets to taste. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” she moaned, grinding her hips into his face.

“Greedy,” he warned, noting how her eyes went wide. “Behave yourself.”

And fuck Lucien if she didn’t settle herself down, spreading her legs wider. One day he’d let her be wild, would let her do whatever she liked but today she’d do everything he said if only to prove this was a good fit for them both. 

“Good girl,” he praised, returning to his kissing and sucking. Elain merely moaned every time he did something that felt good and remained silent when he didn’t. It’s how Lucien learned she didn’t like the hard and fast flicks and didn’t like when he combined sensations all at once. She liked a steady pressure and the flat of his tongue stroking up and down the center of her while his fingers teased at her opening without actually penetrating. Her hips began to roll again, her moaning reaching a fever pitch. Lucien wanted to die, was so hard he couldn’t think straight. She was so hot, so wet and when Lucien pushed a finger into her gasping, sucking pussy, he was reminded that she was tight, too.

She came apart with a scream, writhing and grinding against his face until he pushed her back to the bed. It was enough to punish her, at any rate, though he rode her through it just because he liked the sight of her naked.

“What did I tell you about being greedy?” he gasped when she was done, catching her wide eyes filled with lust.

“Sorry–”

“Get up,” he ordered, stunned when she scrambled to her feet to obey. Her tits bounced as Elain stood at the edge of the mattress, her legs still trembling from her orgasm. Lucien reached for a pillow and dropped it at her feet so she’d have something soft to kneel against. 

“Take off my shorts,” he said. Her eyes sharpened, stepping towards him.

“Can…can I take off your shirt, too? Sir,” she amended quickly.

“Daddy,” he replied, gauging her reaction. 

“Daddy,” she breathed. “Please?”

“Yes,” he agreed, if only to be as naked as she was. Lucien was still struck dumb by the soft curve of her body, the flare of her hips and the pull of her waist. Her breasts were perfect, tilted upwards towards the sky and tipped with the rosiest nipples he’d ever seen. Elain was stunning, obviously gorgeous but every inch of her was somehow pretty. He didn’t know how to describe it any other way.

She was careful with his shirt, sliding up over his chest was careful fingers. Lucien swallowed a groan at this slow exploration, helping her get it over his head, given Elain was a good head and shoulders smaller than him. Petite was the right word, he supposed. 

Perfection.

She stared for a moment, hands at her sides. “Someday, I’ll let you lick,” he murmured, reaching for her wrists and putting them against the waistband for his shorts. “Something other than my cock, I mean.”

She gazed up through dark lashes. 

“Take them off and then get on your knees.”

Elain treated his shorts and briefs the same way she’d done with the shirt. Slowly removing, fingertips grazing his skin. Her eyes went wide when his cock sprang free, swollen and thick and practically weeping precum. Elain sank to her knees, letting him tug her ponytail from her hair and sweep the curls up in his fingers.

“Greedy girls suck cock just the way I like,” he told her. “And I like to bruise your throat. Do you understand?”

“Yes, daddy,” she whispered. He was going to come in five seconds, he just knew it. 

“Open your mouth, baby,” he ordered. “Be my good girl and stick out your tongue.”

She did so immediately, allowing him to wipe the beaded moisture of his slit against the pillowy soft tongue hanging between her lips.

“Swallow.”

She did, never taking her eyes off him.

“Good girl. Open again.”

This time, Lucien pushed himself into her mouth, stopping when he heard her gag softly. She barely had a third of him. He’d have to train her but Lucien had the time and the inclination. He’d bring her to work with him, put her beneath his desk, and have her work him root to tip all day like it was her greatest purpose in life. 

Dragging himself out, Lucien managed one command. “Suck.”

She did, hollowing her cheeks, eyes never leaving his face.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty like this.”

Elain didn’t say anything at all, though a flush of pleasure stole over her cheeks. She was a perfect submissive, he decided. Rough around the edges but eager to please and so utterly trainable.

Lucien practically vibrated with delight, holding her face steady to push himself into her. 

“Can you take more? Widen your jaw, baby,” he murmured, watching her gasp a quick breath of air before he pushed further, the crown of his aching cock hitting the spongy softness of her throat. 

“Use your hand,” he added when it was clear anymore would hurt her. He was holding himself back, easing her in, just as he’d promised.  “Perfect. You’re perfect, baby. Look at how pretty you are, sucking my cock.”

Tears slid from her eyes, dragging mascara with it. Next time he hoped she didn’t wear it, though he wiped it with his thumbs as he pumped in and out of her mouth. She timed her hand, using her saliva to lubricate his skin. 

“My good girl,” Lucien praised, every inch of him impossibly tight. He was clenching his ass to keep from coming though he couldn’t hold back much longer. “Are you going to swallow daddy’s come? Hm? Good girls swallow.”

She hummed her approval and Lucien groaned again.

“Good girl,” he said, increasing his hips until all he could hear was the wet sucking and gagging of her mouth. “Fuck, Elain—” he came with a rough, ugly grunt, pushing an inch further than he’d meant to. Hot ropes of come spurted from his cock directly into her throat and Elain, with on hand bracing his naked thigh, her eyes wide with surprise, took it all. 

He hauled her to her feet, game over for the moment. “Good job, Elain, you did so well, c’mere—” he kissed her, lavishing praise and soft touches over her skin. At some point he’d keep her as his submissive the entire time she was in his apartment but for now, Lucien let her slide back into herself, the part that sassed him back, at any rate. 

Lucien got her into the bed, pushing back the blankets and tossing her his shirt while he pulled on his shorts. The sight of her draped in his clothes made him achy all over again. 

Tugging her against his chest, Lucien stroked her hair.

“How was it?”

“A little weird,” she admitted. “But I liked it. I uh…it felt nice,” she said, nuzzling into his chest. 

“Good,” he murmured. “I’ll take care of you, alright? You can always stop–”

“Should we pick a safe word?”

They should have at the fucking beginning. He’d gotten lucky she hadn’t needed it. “Yeah. What do you want? Something that doesn’t belong in the bedroom…so don’t choose stop.”

She frowned. “How about vodka?”

He smiled, kissing her forehead. “Works for me.”

“Isn’t cuddling outside of the bounds of fuck buddies?”

“Nah. First of all, we’re  between fuck buddies and dating. Like…friends with very specific benefits.  And afterwards, you should get used to being taken care of, especially if something is painful. It’s just good practice…and I’m not above a little cuddling, besides.”

“What are you above?”

Lucien shifted uncomfortably. “Vodka.”

“Are you safe wording this conversation?”

“Yes. I don’t want to discuss what might convince me into a relationship. I don’t want one.” His voice was too hard though he kept his touch light, sweet. “Trust I won’t change my mind.”

That settled her.

“Well…just for the record, friends with benefits implies some manner of friendship. You could be open without worrying I want to date you.”

But Lucien didn’t trust that. He wanted to believe her because Elain was earnest and nice and had done everything he asked. He’d been around too many women with ulterior motives, who wanted to be a Vanserra more than they wanted anything else.

He kissed her head.

“Let’s watch a movie baby,” he murmured. 

She curled closer. “Whatever you want.”

Lucien smiled. 

“Good girl.”

[kohanayaki]

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 4

Snape looks back on your days at Hogwarts, how your friendship came to be, and how it came to end.

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2    CH 3   CH 4  CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

___________________________________________________________

Ch 4  .:Budding Feelings and the Beginning of the End:.

Severus Snape had made a lot of mistakes in his life, and seeing you again after all these years was forcing him to relive every single one of them.

He stared blankly at the wall in front of him, shrouded in the darkness and grim silence of his empty house. He never thought he'd see you again, and certainly not under these circumstances. When he'd laid his eyes on you in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld place he couldn't believe it. He, much like the rest of the Order (except for Molly, apparently) assumed you wouldn't be at these meetings any longer. After James and Lily were murdered and Sirius was thrown into Azkaban, you'd left London and headed to New York under the Ministry's alliance with MACUSA, hoping to help bridge the gap between muggle-borns and purebloods in America. He knew you had been back to meet Harry a handful of times, but he also knew that being in this city brought up painful memories for you, so he was as stunned as anyone else to see you standing there in the doorway, greeting them as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

He could see that traveling had been good for you. He'd heard through the Hogwarts circuit that you were back on auror duty across the world, taking special assignments from Dumbledore and the Minister for Magic himself. You seemed like you were doing better, but when you turned to smile at him he could see the hesitation and the sadness that brewed behind your eyes, likely his doing.

He desperately wanted things to go back to what they were before—

Before he'd ruined it. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1974  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright students,” Professor Slughorn said as everyone finished filing inside the room, “today we're going to be pairing off into new partners for the upcoming project.”

Groans and nervous chatter flooded the sound space immediately, no one very thrilled with having to work with someone new out of their control. You cast a glance over to Lily who looked equally displeased. You liked being her partner, you both excelled at the subject and worked really well together.

“Yes, yes, I know,” Slughorn said, waving the complaints off, “However, I am going to be giving you the luxury of choosing your own partners this time, but everyone—”

The energy in the room instantly shifted, everyone shoving around people to get to their friends.

“—keep in mind, if I see any slacking off or trouble brewing in these new partnerships I will not hesitate to rearrange them!”

Slughorns's words were completely lost among the commotion as people paired off before you could even get your bearings. Snape stalled as he stared at you from across the room; Lily had already been dragged away by Mary, and his brain was trying to work out how to ask you to be his partner.

Suddenly an arm was slung over your shoulder and you turned towards the new presence in surprise. You looked up to see Evan Rosier, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows and his Slytherin tie loose around his neck.

Oh, sod it, Snape cursed internally. He was too late.

“Wanna partner up?” Rosier asked, a crooked grin gracing his chiseled features, “It'd be my honor to have the smartest Potions partner in class, not to mention the most attractive.”

You rolled your eyes at the praise. Evan was your friend, and he was nice to look at, but if he thought that you would be willing to do all the work for the both of you in exchange for some cheap compliments, then he had another thing coming. You locked eyes with Snape from across the room

“It would be your honor,” you smirked up at Rosier, “but I already have a partner, sorry.”

It took Snape a few seconds to realize what you were doing, but once he snapped out of it he made his way towards you. You almost chuckled at how robotic he looked as he did, clearly shocked.

Rosier looked between the two of you and rolled his eyes.

“Suit yourself, sweetheart,” he said, letting you go and pushing you lightly in Snape's direction, “but if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” He sent a wink your way that left Snape's blood inexplicably boiling,

“Thanks for that,” you grinned, “and just so you know, I would have chosen you even if he didn't come up to me, so don't get all pouty about it, okay?”

Severus just looked at you blankly. Even after four years it was frightening how well you were able to read him; for a moment he was scared that he'd accidentally projected his thoughts to you, but he wasn't anywhere near that level of legillemency yet. He wanted to say something that had some semblance of gratitude but settled on:

“Whatever.”

To which you just laughed and dragged him to your now shared desk.

You really were something else.

“Now then,” Professor Slughorn addressed the room, “today we will be beginning the new unit on toxic concoctions, starting with the Draught of Living Death. If you would all turn to page ten of your books, we will get started presently.”

You turned open your book and Severus did the same. As he did, you noticed that nearly every page was covered in small notes littering the margins, with some of the instructions circled, crossed out, or modified. You were hardly surprised, Snape had been pouring over this book since last year when he'd stolen it from a fifth year Slytherin who'd been speaking poorly of you (that last part you were unaware of).

You turned your attention to the directions, reaching over to preheat the burner so your cauldron would be hot enough by the time you began. However, as soon as you lit the flame with the tip of your wand, your cauldron shot up into the air, hitting the ceiling with a loud BANG! before crashing down back onto your table, breaking several of the glass instruments that were settled there.

Your face burned embarrassment as everyone in the room turned to look at you in shock.

“Snape, (L/n),” Slughorn said, surprised, “whatever happened?”

“I. . .” you began, not knowing what to say, “I don't know, I'm sorry, Professor.”

“Quite all right,” he said uncertainly, restoring your table and equipment with a wave of his wand, “just be sure whatever that was doesn't happen again.”

“Of course,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the snickering around you. If you noticed the way that it stopped as soon as Snape sent a deathly glare at the culprits, you didn't show it. You reached down to grab your cauldron, noticing that the bottom was dusted in some sort of orange powder. As you turned it over, a note fell out of it.

You're welcome, (L/n). Sorry I couldn't be there for the fireworks~

J.P.

“That sneaky little, ugh,” you crumpled the note, growling in frustration.

“What is it?” Severus asked, peering over your shoulder to glance at the paper. However, as soon as you tried to show it to him it vanished in your hands in a wisp of glowing embers. You turned to look at Severus who was still staring at you expectantly.

“It was Potter,” you rolled your eyes.

Anger flashed in Severus' eyes before confusion replaced it momentarily.

“But that was your cauldron, not mine. Why would Potter want to mess with you?”

And now the anger was back again. Snape was used to Potter’s crew targeting him; bullying and suffering through minor hexes had become an everyday occurrence, but when he imagined them doing anything to you it was enough to make him see red.

“Ah, well. . .” you trailed off, deciding that telling him you'd yelled at the group of Gryffindors: 'if you jerks want to have a go at Severus you're gonna have to get through me first!' was a bad idea.

“I sort of, maybe, kind of. . . started it?” you said. Severus raised a brow at you. “Look, Potter was asking for it, okay? It was about time someone messed with him for a change. And besides, it was hilarious, even Lily got a kick out of watching that broom hit him in the head.”

Severus chuckled at that, a hint of pride welling in his chest at yours and Lily's shared distaste for the Potter boy.

“But that was the last straw,” you declared, grabbing a Sopophorus bean from the bowl in front of you and a knife to cut it as per the instructions, “I'm sick and tired of him acting like he's better than everyone else,” you said, stabbing down with your knife for emphasis. The Sopophorus bean jumped as you did, sliding out from under your blade and skidding across your cutting board. You huffed as you grabbed it again, placing it back down and holding it in place. “And he walks around with that little posse of his like he runs this school!” You brought your knife down again, moving your fingers at the last second, but the bean still managed to slip away, trying to bounce back into the bowl.

“This means war!” you seethed, grabbing the runaway legume again, now at your wit's end, and crushing it in your fist. It stopped jumping as the beet-red juice of the plant dripped down your arm, and Severus looked at you with a small smirk on his face.

“Well, that's one way to do it,” he said.

“Shove off,” you said playfully, throwing the bean in his direction. He dodged it easily, his smile growing.

“No, really,” he said, almost more to himself than you as he scribbled out the word 'cut' and replaced it with 'crush' in his notebook, “you might be better at this than you let on.”

You blushed at the unexpected compliment, backhanded as it was.

“Excuse you, I happen to be fantastic at Potions,” you said, grabbing another bean and avoiding his gaze.

“Right, that's why your cauldron exploded.”

“That was sabotage,” you shot back.

“I was talking about last week,” Severus said cheekily, taking in your flustered expression.

You both went back to your ingredients, eventually discovering that crushing the beans with the flat of a knife was the best way to extract the juice without them jumping. You watched Severus out of the corner of your eye as he measured out the African Sea water, adding it gradually as he stirred the mixture counter-clockwise. The elixir turned a bright blue color, shimmering as if light were being reflected off of it. He continued on with the formula, snapping off a few fluxweed sprigs before adding them and lowering the heat with his wand, hardly looking at the instructions at all.

You wondered where this newfound confidence had come from. Severus was usually so rigid and withdrawn, but right now he looked more at ease than you had ever seen him. A spark was present in his eyes as he worked that you rarely ever saw, and it made you smile despite yourself.

The rest of your potion making process went on without a hitch, and you silently applauded yourself as you watched the other students around you struggle to get their concoctions together. Even Lily seemed to be having trouble, though Mary wasn't really helping other than offering moral support.

You turned back to focus on your own potion, stirring it with the ladle and mesmerized by the way it began to turn a deep plum color. Meanwhile, Severus was cleaning up your shared station, looking over at the brew. His brows furrowed as he examined it.

“Just stir it a bit more,” he said, coming up behind you and placing his hand on top of yours, “the color is still off.”

Your face burned at the unexpected contact; Snape certainly wasn't a touchy person, so the act caught you completely off guard, though you'd be lying if you said you didn't like it. Severus nearly jumped backwards, absolutely mortified when he realized what he was doing. It was him micromanaging more than anything; he was so focused on getting the potion right he didn't even notice he was moving his own body as he gave you the instruction.

“Sorry,” he said, feeling quite possibly the lamest he'd ever felt in his life.

“It's okay,” you said, biting the inside of your lip nervously and continuing to stir like he said. Your light response allowed Snape to relax, his shoulders lowering a full three inches. He'd been certain you would have reacted to his mistake with disgust or repulsion, but you didn't. What did that mean? You were utterly confusing. Despite how well you could read him, Severus was unable to get a read on you at all. If he had been, he would have noticed the tiny smile on your face as you stirred, silently wishing his hand were back on yours.

You and Snape stood at attention as Slughorn peered down at your potion, looking mildly impressed. He reached into his robes, procuring an oak leaf from who knows where, and dropped it into your cauldron. The leaf floated on top of the liquid for just a moment before its edges began to burn. It furled from the unseen heat, folding in on itself and disappearing into the inky depths of the liquid. Slughorn's expression lit up, his impression no longer mild.

“Merlin's beard, it's perfect!” he exclaimed, “in all my years I've never seen a pair recreate this potion exactly as you two have done today.”

You beamed at the praise, your smile only widening as you saw your emotions mirrored in Severus' face, albeit more subtly.

Over the course of your fourth year, you and Snape continued to excel in Potions, receiving much praise from Professor Slughorn and a lot of glares from your fellow students. However, there was something else that continued that year, and that was your increasing interactions with James Potter.

“I just don't get why you even bother with him,” Snape had said to you one day while you were in Potions. Your prank war with James was at its peak, and you were sidetracked that day in class coming up with new ideas to get back at him.

“It's a full on battle now, Sev,” you said, “I can't back down! Now, for my next one I was thinking something along the lines of a callback to one of his earlier stunts. Maybe get him back for tampering with my cauldron at the beginning the year.”

“(Y/n)—”

“I've got a few friends in Gryffindor, and apparently he talks about his prank plans way too loudly in the common room, so I have a head start on this one. They mentioned something about my shampoo—“

“(Y/n),” Severus stressed, finally catching your attention. You looked up at him, embarrassed at you rambling. “Why do you keep doing this?” he asked, “he's just baiting you. You know that.”

“It keeps them from doing anything that targets you, right?” you questioned back.

Severus didn't know what to say at that. It was true, ever since you had declared war on James, he and his stupid friends hadn't really bothered with him at all. Were you doing this for him? He didn't know what to do with the thought.

You were, of course, but you thought it better not to mention that in the last few months this had been going on, you'd also begun to find the rivalry and banter between you and James fun.

“Gather 'round students, gather 'round!” Slughorn beckoned the class over, disrupting your train of thought and putting an end to your conversation, “now, would anyone like to identify the potion in this cauldron here?” He gestured to a shockingly pink liquid that seemed to swirl on its own. Plum and periwinkle smoke wafted through the air above it in delicate spirals.

“That's Amortentia,” Lily said, “it's a love potion that's supposed to smell different to everyone depending on what scents attract them.”

“Right you are, Miss Evans,” Slughorn said proudly, “would you like to tell us what you smell?”

“Cinnamon,” she started slowly, “warm spices, butterbeer, sandalwood. . .” her cheeks reddened significantly, as if she'd made some sort of realization. “Th-that's all.” You stared at her quizzically but she just shook her head. You'd have to ask her about this later. . .

“(L/n),” Slughorn said, “would you be so kind as to do the same?”

“Sure,” you said, stepping up to the cauldron. It was captivating, almost drawing you in physically. “Wild lavender,” you said, smiling, your mother had a garden full of them when you were growing up, “rain when it hits the pavement, and old leather books.” Scents you wouldn't realize until much later all correlated with a certain person.

“Very different scents for very different people,” Professor Slughorn said, “thank you for demonstrating, you two. Now, we will not be brewing this potion today for obvious reasons. It is incredibly dangerous, capable of creating not true love, but unhinged obsession. What we will be doing, however, is studying its effects. . .”

“Strongest love potion in the world, huh?” Evan suddenly appeared at your side, “funny, I could have sworn it smelled just like you, although you wouldn't need a potion to reign me in~”

“Put a sock in it, Rosier,” you said, shoving him away playfully.

“Aw, come on, just one date wouldn't hurt,” he said, “I'm pulling out all my best lines here!”

“That's the best you've got?”

“Ouch.”

Snape couldn't help but glare at the Slytherin boy, not liking how close he was to you. Nice as he seemed, Snape knew how he could really be. He didn't think you'd be such good friends with Rosier if you knew he was knee deep in the dark arts as soon as the sun set on the castle. Then again, Severus wasn't one to talk.

Over the course of the year he noticed that you only grew closer to James, something that bothered him immensely. He was grateful that you had gotten his bullying to stop, but he hated that the way you had gone about it was to turn Potter into a friend. . .

“Merlin, he keeps looking over at you, Lils,” you said.

Lily and Severus looked over to where James sat with Sirius, Remus, and Peter in their corner table as usual. Somehow they always managed to be at The Three Broomsticks at the exact same time as your trio, almost as if they knew you were there. James Potter was, in fact, looking towards your table, until your friends not-so-discreetly turned to look at him and he diverted his gaze elsewhere.

“Idiot,” you rolled your eyes as you took another sip of your butterbeer.

Lily looked between you and James' table for a moment before turning back to you.

“Actually, (Y/n), he's staring at you.”

You looked at her like she'd grown a second head but then began to laugh.

“Is he? Jeeze, what a creep,” you said, but with affection in your voice that wasn't missed by Severus, “it's probably because I saved his ass the other day and he's still reeling from it.”

“Oh,” she said, a hint of what you swore was relief in her tone until she realized what you said, “Wait, you what?”

“Sirius and I were talking in the forest and we got ambushed by Malfoy's motley crew,” you said, “and Potter showed up because of course he did. It was just a little duel, no big deal.”

“What?!” Lily said, concern written all over her face, “they fancy the dark arts, (Y/n), you could have been hurt!”

Severus stared into his drink, unable to look at either of you.

“I'm fine, Lils,” you insisted, “and trust me, I don't think Malfoy's going to be bothering anyone anymore. Just show him a picture of a squid and he'll probably screech like a banshee.”

Lily laughed along with you, partially in confusion, until the first part of your statement hit her with a slight delay.

“Hold on, you were in the forest with Black? And did you just call him Sirius?” she asked, her teasing making your face flush.

“We just. . . figured some stuff out. . . It was nothing like what you're thinking, so drop it,” you grumbled, taking another drink to hide your embarrassed face.

“Whatever you say, (Y/n),” Lily sang, taking a sip of her own drink.

Severus felt jealousy bubble up in him like a disease. He cast his gaze upwards, his eyes locking momentarily with James'. His arch rival rose a cocky brow at him, his gaze unmistakably shifting to you and Lily before staring Snape down again. Severus took a sharp breath to steel himself, that feeling in the pit of his stomach never really going away.

That was the beginning of the end.

Read chapter 5 here!

Taglist:  @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy

[magalidragon]

paris is always a good idea | a Jonerys Drabble

Thank you @youwerenevermine​ for my wonderful birthday gift, I love it so much and I love Paris so much and Jonerys and you for making this for me so I felt inspired and wrote a quick little drabble thing, lol. It’s only the fourth time I’ve written Jonerys in a modern, non-Westeros world, but it was fun!  And I wanna’ go back so much!  Paris, je t’aime!

They met while in university, oddly enough, as fate would have it, on her birthday.

She had been there to study art, for a year abroad, savoring every last second wandering the wide, arched hallways of the Louvre, staring at grand masters for hours on end, burning the vibrant colors and mesmerizing brushstrokes into her memory, wishing she could be as good as them one day.  One day, someone would have her art in their house, and proudly boast they'd gotten it back when she was but a nobody, painting on the streets or in the grassy parks.  

Since it was her birthday, she decided to treat herself, and instead of heading straight to the university to get some time in the studio, she decided to get an ice cream at Berthillon, heading to the Ile-St-Louis instead of to the metro, taking her time to admire, as she often did, the glory of Notre Dame, it’s gargoyles and buttresses.

At the glacier she took her time selecting a flavor, did not even mind paying the exorbitant price and shouldered through tourists taking refuge from a cold rain that had begun to fall. She savored it, the clean water bouncing off her peat coat and the beanie she’d tugged over her silver hair.

She was about to set off, to eat her ice cream and wander into the Marais, perhaps drop down into the Latin Quarter— maybe take a trip to Chanel or Dior or Celine to admire the creations she couldn’t afford— when her ice cream went flying, straight onto the wet sidewalk. Where a mass of pidgins attacked it with gusto.

“Merde! Faites attention!” she shouted, stomping her Doc Marten on the ground in petulant annoyance.

The man who had bumped her because he’d been roughhousing with another friend had been apologetic.  He bought her another and said his name was Robb Stark. He was from Scotland, was on spring break with his buddies, which she didn’t care about. To apologize he invited her for a drink, especially when the worker who she’d told it was her birthday had commented on it again when she got another ice cream.

She figured why not?  He was attractive, sorry, and nice enough so she agreed, although she had commented his French was terrible best to speak English. “You’re English?” he had teased.

“Half and half,” she answered. English father, French mother.

At the comptoir where she suggested they meet, in Montmartre, she brought her roommate Missandei and Missandei’s boyfriend Grey. It was just a drink and they’d leave and go to the dinner Missandei planned to take her to anyway.

Except that’s where she met him.

The dark, brooding figure at the tiny table in the corner, ignoring Robb and Robb’s friend Theon, and a couple others, favoring silence and his drink. He was in all black, barely acknowledging her and slipped out for a smoke when Robb began to shamelessly flirt. She didn’t care about Robb, she cared about him.

Jon.

She exited, saw him lighting a cigarette against a lap post. She flicked her coat collar up and sidled towards him. “Puis-j’en avoir un?”

“Sorry I don’t speak,” he began, and his eyes— black in the orange lamplight glow— flicking to her. He smiled gently “French.”

She smiled and repeated her question in English.  “Can I have one?  A smoke  that is?”

He stuck the cigarette between his pouty, sinful lips, framed with a cropped dark beard, and reached into his coat pocket, removing a pack. She took one delicately and he lit it, cupping his hands around the tip so the wind didn’t blow it out.

A stream of smoke escaped her nostrils when she puffed and she smiled up at him, hoping he got the hint. “Do you like Paris?”

“Not especially.”

“Aw come on,” she teased. She hummed, closing her eyes and taking in the cold night. The electric buzz is people on the street and at the cafes and bars around them. “Paris is always a good idea.”

“Someone famous said that.”

“Audrey Hepburn.”

He sucked on the cigarette and smiled, a tiny one, the curve of his lip sly rather than shy.  “You aren’t in there with the rest of them.”

“Because it’s my birthday and I want to do what I want to do.”  She stubbed the cigarette out on the post and turned, disposing it in the bin by the door.  A quick text to Missandei: I’m going to skip dinner, I think I have a date, she turned and studied him.  “I’m…”

“Dany,” he said. He shrugged, finishing his smoke. “I remember.”  

Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t think you were listening when Robb introduced me.”

“I was.”  He pulled the tartan scarf around his neck tighter.  He glanced towards Sacré-Cœur, illuminated white in the lights around its base. He smirked at her.  “You going back in?”

She shook her head. “No,” she drawled. She followed his gaze to Sacré-Cœur. “Have you been up there?”

“No.”

“You should. Some of the best views of Paris.”

He chuckled, voice tight. “You should invite Robb.”

“I think he might be a third wheel.”

It took him a second, the gears in his mind turning, understanding what she was saying. He cocked his head. His black curls were in a mess around his face. A few scattered rain drops landed on them, and he shook it free like a dog. Or a wolf, she thought, noting the animal embroidered on the edge of his scarf.

He narrowed his eyes again. “I told you I don’t really like Paris.”

“Why?”

“It’s loud. Busy. Dirty.”

She laughed. “Every city is like that but in Paris it’s different.”

“Why?”

Her bravado got the better of her and she stepped towards him, linking her arm through his. If he didn’t get it now, he was a stupid fool who deserved it when she kicked him into the gutter. “Because,” she murmured, rising to her toes, trying to gaze as directly as she could into his eyes, which she now saw were actually gray. His breathing quickened. “You’re with me.”

The wolf got the point with that comment. He allowed her to keep her arm around his and lead him towards the cathedral.  They spoke of nothing and anything on the long walk through Montmartre to the highest point in the city.  

He was in Paris for a research trip.  He was studying medieval weapons and was going out to Bayeux to study some relics. His cousin Robb and friends came along for the free trip.  They spoke about being starving artists in their field-- her literally an artist as it were.  They talked about Paris-- how much he disliked it, how much she adored it.  The top of Sacre-Coeur might have changed his mind, but he pretended he still didn’t get the appeal, so she dragged him back down to the streets, to her favorite all-night boulangerie, into the metro and across town to the Eiffel Tower, spinning in circles on the Champs du Mars.  They ran across the Pont-de-la-Concorde and across the Tullieries.  They wandered down the Seine, smoked cigarettes in the doorsteps of old buildings in the Latin Quarter, and drank cheap wine in one of the tourist-cafes near the Jardin du Luxembourg.  

They meandered back through the streets, the city oddly quiet, the rain stopping, and she brought him to her garret studio in the Bastille, up the six flights of stairs to the top of the building, where she shed her coat and boots adn scratched her fat cat Drogon’s ears, leading him to the wrought-iron bars in one of the four windows she had, pushing the window open and crawling out, up onto the roof where she wanted to show him something.  

“Look,” she directed, when he climbed up next to her-- less gracefully-- pointing to the lit-up Eiffel Tower.  

He cursed under his breath.  “It’s gorgeous.”

“It’s my favorite place in Paris.  The rent is steep, but it’s worth it for this.”  She chuckled.  “And it has the best view.”

He whispered.  “Yes, it does.”  

And to her surprise, since she didn’t realize the time, the tower began to twinkle, the 20,000 lights across its metal beams flickering and she glanced sideways; he wasn’t watching the tower, but her face.  She arched her brows.  “You know, the lights twinkle for five minutes every hour, on the hour.”  She smiled and shrugged, whispering.  “It’s a sign that you’re supposed to return to Paris.”

Instead of saying anything, like how silly that was, he leaned in and cupped her face in his wide palm, callused and warm, bringing her face to meet his, kissing gently, in the twinkly glow of the lights.  He pulled back a moment later, breathing, “I think I like Paris.  And you’er right...this place has the best view.”  His eyes were wide on hers, focused.  She chuckled, nodding in agreement, and pulled him back to her for another kiss.

That night she savored every moment with him, as they pulled each other’s clothes off slowly, kissing and touching, every smooth curve and muscle of each other, each hard ridge and plane of his strong, muscular body or her soft, lean one.  He touched her and kissed her and stroked her in ways she’d never experienced, bringing her to heights she’d only dreamed about.  It was intense, the lights behind her closed eyelids when she came, over and over, gripping his shoulders, hair, the bedframe behind her.  He rose up and over her, in and out, their bodies moving as one, thrusting and arching.  

She didn’t know if she’d see him again; if this was a one-time, romantic Parisian adventure, but in the morning when she woke, she found him coming back inside from getting pastries and coffees, the faintest scent of cigarettes and her toothpaste on his lips when he kissed her good morning.  

They exchanged their information, vowing to speak daily, and he would see her when he got back from Bayeux.  She couldn’t believe when he did call and he kept his word.  “When you lie, words lose their meaning,” he’d explained, obviously reading her surprise.  

And when her year ended in Paris, she found herself in London, back at university, dreaming of their magical time there, even when they made time for each other, going back and forth from London to Edinburgh; and he from Edinburgh to Paris during the last couple of months of her year there.  

They made it a priority; every single year they spent time in Paris, like they were students again, on that magical night.  

They grew older, no longer needing to find the cheapest drinks and cigarettes, or staying in studio garrets, eventually able to experience some of the best hotels and restaurants the city had to offer, as he sold books and became a well-known author and professor, and her dream of becoming a famous artist came true, when sure enough, someone bought one of her paintings on the side of the Seine, someone who happened to be an art dealer in New York.  

It was their city, where they met, and where they could remember.  

After they married, about fifteen years after that fateful birthday, they visited again, and spun together on the Pont-Neuf, kissing and murmuring how they loved each other and always would, and he took her back to the tiny studio garret, which was now theirs, and sat on the rooftop and watched the Eiffel Tower sparkle.  

“Paris is always a good idea,” she murmured, head in the crook of his neck, her back to his front, wrapped in a warm blanket, and his arms tight around her middle.  She tilted her face up to his, sated, and still hopelessly in love with him.  “Take me to Paris, Jon.”

He nuzzled his nose into her cheek, whispering.  “You are Paris, Dany.”

As it was the city where they’d met, fallen in love, and found true happiness, she grinned, because that was his way of saying how much he loved her.  She brushed her lips over his, sighing, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”  

And they kissed, as the Eiffel Tower lit up, and she curled up into him, falling asleep in the city of love and lights.

[fumingspice]

All The Things She Said

Pairing: Lana Winters x Reader

Request:  student x teacher au fic with lana, billie or cordelia?

Note: Added in a little sparkle with a soulmate AU. Those who are lucky enough to have a soulmate are assigned a necklace with a small pendant. No one knows where they come from or how they’re decided; they just appear and will match your soulmate’s identically. Also, yes the reader is eighteen, and yes there will probably be a part two.

Requests are open!

Your routine was like clock-work; every morning without fail. 5am you would get out of bed and go on a run. There was no reason, really. You weren't someone who was that interested in athletics, it was just a way to clear your mind and wake up your mind and body before going to school and having the energy sucked out of you.

You adored the way the sky looked this early in the morning as you ran through the country park. The heat gave you an extra kick of gratification as you watched the sky dance in colours of orange and pink, painting everything in shades of gold. The sun crept through the mountain like liquid glory and you couldn't get enough of it.

Realising the time, you made your way back to your neighbourhood, waving at neighbours you often saw at this time of morning.

You saw many of the same people on morning runs that you eventually learned by name while running past them, shouting a greeting and waving as you sped past them. This morning, you noticed that the home a few lots down from your own had been purchased; the new inhabitents were outside, speaking with a contractor.

As you ran, you noticed the woman watching you. Breaking your glance, you made a mental note to introduce yourself later.

The shower couldn't come soon enough as you lathered the cool water on your body. Cold showers after a run provided that little extra adrenaline rush that you needed to get you through the day, and boy would you need it today.

After months of persuasion, you had finally given in to skipping the end of school and heading to a gay bar with your friends Emmett and Heather. Being the model student you were, you had declined the offer time and time again; but after catching your boyfriend with another girl and the subsequent break up of one of the most liked couples in school, you decided that now would be the best time for it.

The school day rushed in and at 12pm on the dot, you and Emmett made your way to Heather's car, where she sat impatiently tapping her foot.

"You two took your sweet time," the blonde muttered, pulling on a pair of sunglasses and revving up the engine.

The plan was simple; Heather's parents were out of town for the week so the three of you planned to stay over. Today would be spent getting ready and having a few drinks before hitting the bar in order for you to have a "drink in celebration" for breaking up with your ex-boyfriend.

The bar was lively, and you could smell the mixture of cheap cigarettes, alcohol and weed and hear the music from the street behind. Emmett compared the similarity of the three of you strutting to the bar to the Sanderson sisters from Hocus Pocus.

Heather nudged you yet again, her elbow hitting a nerve in your ribs and making you bounce.

"Will you quit that?" you snapped, realising your fourth cocktail was making you slightly irritable.

Heather glared at you and pulled you over to whisper in your ear. "The brunette at seven o'clock has looked from her phone to you at least four times," she hissed, releasing you and nodding her head in the direction.

You nodded in understanding and gestured for her to tell you what to do. Picking chicks up at a bar wasn't exactly something you were accustomed to, after all.

"Go up to the bar and order something-" she looked at your outift, "-I don't know. Some business casual-sounding drink. Like an Old Fashioned or something. Make a joke about how much you've drank and if she's warm then ask if she's here with someone. Then go in for the kill and Emmett and I will be your wing-people when you break your seal."

"Break my what?"

Heather practically shoved you off your chair.

You shrugged and walked towards the bar, standing close to the brunette, but not close enough so that she knew what you were up to. The bartender approached and you smiled at her.

"Hey, could I get an Old Fashioned pl-"

"And get me another piña colada while you're making your move!" Heather called, acting more drunk than she was in an effort to hint off to the lady. You glared at her, and in return, for some added effect she lent into full view of the lady, shot her a cheesy grin and gave her a thumbs up.

You spun on your heel to see if the lady had noticed, and to your dismay she had. She looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

At least she didn't look disappointed.

"Was that for me?" She chuckled, taking a tip from her class. You grinned as casually as possible, looking down at your hands. You finished off your order and paid, waiting for Heather to get her drink to no avail.

"You know what, yeah I think it was for you actually," you replied. Keeping it cool was the buzz phrase Heather had been using all day. "I'm sorry but my friend claimed that she had seen you checking me out a few times and was pretty insistant that I come over and talk to you."

You sat in the stool, leaving one between you.

The lady chuckled. "It's fine," she said, taking another sip. "I'd be grateful for the company."

"You're alone? You're more than welcome to sit with my friends and I," you offered.

You cut off immediately by Heather collecting her drink, standing between you and muttering, "don't you fucking dare," into your ear before walking over to the woman and leaning over her shoulder.

"Now, you see, Ms- I'm sorry what's your name? Jesus, Y/N! When you flirt it's basic manners to ask for a name," Heather muttered.

"It's Lana," she replied, smiling at you.

Lana. A pretty name.

"Awh, that's a lovely name actually, I wish my parents liked me enough to call me something like that. Anyways, enough about me. So, anyways, my good friend Y/N here just got two-timed by a piece of human trash that she's way hotter than and everyone warned her against dating but hey- you know our Y/N, she's balls-ier than a dodgey testical. So, all I'm really gonna say is we came here because we really want to get her laid so she doesn't need to feel like she got the short end of the bargain so, you know-"

At this stage Heather was trying to communicate through a series of dramatic gestures. Emmett strod over, took Heather by the shoulders and apologised to Lana before walking your drunk friend back to your table.

You were both a little shell-shocked and you feared that Heather's drunken rant had ruined any sembelance of a chance that you had with getting anywhere with this.

"I- I'm so sorry. She doesn't get out much," you said. Lana's smile returned as she waved it off.

"Has anyone ever told you that you look a lot younger than twenty-one?" she asked. You couldn't tell if she was being genuine or if she was trying to hint that she thought you were younger than your ID said.

You nodded. "All the time," you say, it's not like that's a lie. "How old are you? If you're not offended by my asking."

"I'm twenty-nine. I hit the big three-oh in November," she replied. Lana reached into her bag and pulled out a box of Newport cigarettes. "I'm sorry, I've had a long day and I'm dying for a smoke. Care to join me?"

You sat still for a moment before excepting the offer. The club was absolutely packed and you could barely follow Lana through to the balcony without getting separated from her. She noticed and turned around, taking your hand and keeping you close so that you didn't get lost in the crowd.

Lana lent over the metal fence, cupping her hand over her lighter. You watched how her cheeks sucked in, defining her cheekbones and her jawline. You mirrored her position against the fence.

"Hard day at the office?" You asked, declining the cigarette she offered you. "Thanks but I don't smoke."

Lana smiled down at her cigarette. "I like a smart girl. Stay away from these for as long as possible," she took a long draw. "And to answer your question; I moved into a new house today only to find out that none of the plumbing was actually installed and contractor has no idea why."

"My house was like that too; turns out the pipes are just in really weird places," you replied. You turned to face in the opposite direction, laying your elbows onto the bar and watching the crowd. "What do you do? Career wise?"

Lana blew out a puff. "I'm a teacher. French and English Literature."

Ah great; a French student trying to hit on a French teacher. This was gonna be a fun story to tell the group.

"You're kidding? I'm studying French," you replied. 

Lana laughed. "Damn, Y/N. This just has to be written in the stars," she replied, you could sent the well-meant underlying sarcasm in her voice. "You think I have that chance?" You ask, your eyes dart down to her hand. Her ring finger, although bare had an imprint on it as if she had only recently removed a ring. She noticed you looking and brought her hand into a fist.

"Don't look at me like that, Y/N. We're getting divorced," she said. She bit her lip and looked down into the woods beneath. 

You felt slightly guilty. "Oh, I'm sorry." Lana shook her head in response.

"I'm in a gay bar for Christ's sake. We definetly weren't compatiable," she chuckled, reaching for another draw of her cigarette. She turned around, some noise in the background catching her attention. Her sleeve dropped a little bit, revealing two bruises at the side of her wrist that she had clearly tried to cover with foundation. Lana turned back around and you dropped your eyes before you noticed, unaware if it was your place to ask.

"If I'm honest, I don't really like bars. I know this really nice café a few places down. Do you wanna come with me?" You asked. Lana's head cocked slightly, her eyes scanned you as if they were looking for some alterier motive. "I'm not trying to get laid, Lana. I just don't like clubs and I don't think you do either."

Lana's shoulders relaxed, as if trying to decide. "Sure," she nodded. "I'd love to."

You walked back in through the bar, telling Emmett what you were doing. He made you promise to turn on your location and to call him to pick you up when you were ready to leave.

"It's nice that you have friends to watch your back," Lana said as you walked down the street. The air was now cold, nipping at your cheeks and nose. Lana slid her arm through yours after asking if it was okay to do so.

The café in question was small; dimly lit, decorated with plants. It was warm inside and the candles lit everything in orange. It was peaceful. You heard Lana sigh with relaxation as you asked her what she'd like to drink.

Two lattes later, you and Lana lay on the same old, green, springless couch. You giggled and talked for what could have been hours.

Lana noticed your Soul Necklace. “I have one too,” she said, touching the stone delicately. “I’ve never worn it though.”

She told you stories from high school and college while you sat and listened to her in some new form of fascination. You could listen to her talk forever. Your head rested on her shoulder, and hers rested on your head. There was an echo of peace which bounced around the both of you.

Eventually there came a moment when you had finally plucked up enough courage in a moment of silence between you to lift her chin with your finger and close in for a kiss. It was short and sweet, but you could still rellish the feeling of her lips kissing back against yours in a gentle passion.

She waited on you while Emmett drove back to get you, with an extremely drunk Heather in the backseat. 

"Are you free tomorrow night?" Lana asked before she walked away. You nodded. "Would you like to maybe go out? On a date?"

Her final question was asked with a shyness that you found adorable, and giving her a kiss on the cheek as

The next day you went to school in a good mood. Your run was better than ever. Your breakfast was tastier. The sky was more beautiful. You couldn't contain your giggles as Heather drove you and Emmett to school.

"I cannot believe you've landed yourself a date with a teacher," Emmett said as the three with you walked to your French class. You practically danced down the corridor with happiness. The three of you were slightly late to class.

You pushed the door open harder than you intended, making it crash against the wall with a loud bang. You muttered an apology while your friends laughed at you and the teacher settled them down, chuckling under her breath.

That it until she looked up at you.

And you looked up at her.

Lana muttered a profanity under her breath as she realised that she had asked one of her students on a date.

taglist: @its-soph-xx​

[ptergwen]

let’s just pretend

w/c: 3.5k

warnings: rom com references, drinking, and a little bit of angst

summary: you cope with your feelings for peter by getting drunk on halloween

a/n: ok i really really love this and i loved writing it too? it’s the first like original idea i’ve had in a while so maybe that’s why but yeah i hope y’all enjoy and that this puts you in a halloweenish mood :-)

-

there’s something about fall that makes you nostalgic. the same images pop into your head whenever you hear the word october. pumpkin patches, colorful leaves, and hot coffee. it reminds you of being a kid. only when you were a kid, all you could think about this time of year was what you were going to be for halloween.

you’d spend weeks getting your costume together and coordinating with all your friends. trick or treating was literally the only thing that mattered. if you wanted to get good candy, you had to have a good costume.

the high school version of candy is alcohol. everyone just goes to parties so they can drink the whole night. no one even dresses up usually. you personally would rather have chocolate than cheap beer. your whole friend group agrees on that.

that’s why you decided to throw your own party this year. anyone who misses the old halloween can come hang out. so far it’s only peter, mj, ned, betty, and the rest of the decathlon team coming. betty invited everyone for you. she also asked liz, but she’s going to flash’s party. he only gets so many people because his parents are never home and don’t care if he raids the liquor cabinet. whatever.

you’re out finding something to wear with peter and mj a few hours before it starts. ned and betty already picked their costumes. she’s going as an angel, and he’s going as the devil. you think they should switch. they’re out shopping for snacks while the three of you hit up spirit halloween.

mj groans every single second there’s silence, and peter keeps getting scared by the motion sensor decorations. he eventually ends up having to go somewhere in the store that doesn’t have any. so, it’s a lot.

“why don’t you be a vampire?” mj asks in her fake interested voice, taking a pair of fangs off the rack in front of her. you scoff. “i think i did that in sixth grade.” she puts them back with a huff. “witch?” she’s just suggesting every costume she sees so you can get out of here. her lack of enthusiasm makes you want to take longer.

“no.”

“zookeeper?”

“eh.”

“what about cat in the hat?”

“mj, what? no.”

“uh... school girl?”

“ok, that’s just offensive.”

“you’re right. why do they have that?” she eyes the costume suspiciously. you cover it up with a random cloak that fell onto the floor. you’re never going to find anything at this point. maybe it’s a sign you’re too old for this. just when you’re about to lose all hope, peter comes over.

he’s holding up the plaid yellow skirt and blazer cher wears in clueless. it’s one of the most iconic rom com outfits. you grab it with a gasp, peter giving you a knowing smile. “oh my god! wait, where did you find this?” “they have a section with movie stuff.” there’s a han solo costume in his other hand.

you throw an arm around his neck for a quick hug. peter squeezes you and chuckles when he pulls away. it gets a sigh out of mj.

“sure you don’t wanna be the guy she ends up with?” she elbows peter’s arm. the two of you share a disgusted look. “josh? ew, he’s her ex stepbrother,” you dismiss her. “they’re, like, related,” peter adds. mj rolls her eyes almost to the back of her head and starts to walk away. “someone needs to unplug both of your tv’s.” you and peter follow after her.

of course she would suggest a couple’s costume. she was probably trying to make you both get weird. you’re always being teased for spending so much time together. even your parents and may make little comments about it. you can’t help the fact that you have almost everything in common.

peter is the only person your age who doesn’t try so hard to be cool. when you’re with him, you can be the biggest nerd and wear fluffy pajamas and play with legos. it’s a judgement free friendship.

you’ll admit you’ve wanted it to become a judgement free relationship. there’s no way he doesn’t feel your heart beating against him when you cuddle during movie nights. he has to notice your goofy smile whenever he calls you a nickname.

but, it could all be platonic in peter’s mind. maybe he sees you as more of a sister. that would make josh the perfect costume to go with you as cher.

you shutter and try to push the idea out of your mind for the rest of your time at spirit halloween.

it’s almost time for the party to start when you get back to your house. your parents let betty and ned in to start setting up on their way out. they’re going for dinner so they aren’t around to embarrass you. you have until midnight, then there’s nothing you can do. that gives you four hours.

mj is changing into the coraline costume you made her get, which she actually doesn’t hate. betty is helping you do some last minute decorating. peter and ned are putting out snacks. it’s a really good system you have.

“love the the plaid, y/n. you look so fetch!” betty compliments in between throwing fake cobwebs over your couch. you snort and finish stringing up some lights. “wrong movie, but thanks.” “oh. oops,” she shrugs and gets back to cobwebbing. “peter found it for me.” all the lights are up, so you go to plug them in. betty giggles on your way over.

your living room has an orange glow to it now. dusting your hands off, you admire your work. the moment of admiration ends when you notice how betty is looking at you. “what?” “peter found it for you,” she repeats suggestively. “when he was getting his costume, yeah,” you say like it’s nothing because it is nothing.

“so, what i’m hearing is he wanted to see you in a skirt.” you furrow your eyebrows at her. “what? no, he just-“ she wiggles her own eyebrows at you. you’re going to start sweating if you talk about this any longer. too aware of yourself now, you pull down your skirt and trudge over to the stairs. “i’m gonna go check on mj.”

you’re in the middle of convincing her she looks great and to leave your room when everyone calls your name downstairs.

“what?” you shout back from behind the closed door. “you should get down here.” it’s only peter this time. mj widens her eyes at you, but you’re gone before she can say she isn’t wearing this again.

you make your way down the stairs. the three of them are huddled in front of the door. “is someone here?” you mouth, ned looking off to the side awkwardly. they all move out of the way so you can see who it is. it’s flash. you’re obviously surprised to see him at your house, especially since he’s supposed to be having his own party right now.

“um, what are you doing here?” you try not to sound mean. “didn’t you invite the whole decathlon team? i’m on it.” you’d forgotten about that. peter says he’s only an alternate. flash side steps past you to get inside. you didn’t say he could come in. he heads straight to the chip bowl on your living room coffee table. you’re left shaking your head in pure confusion.

“dude, kick him out,” ned whispers to you. you wave your hand dismissively and walk over. he’s kicking his legs up on the table when you get there. “dope outfit. you look good.” he winks and crunches on a tostito. peter is clenching his jaw, but no one sees. “why are you in my house, flash?” you push the bowl away from him. “oh, yeah. my parents came home from vegas early.”

mj finally gets downstairs, squinting at whatever is going on with you while she walks over to everyone else. “i thought we could combine parties.” flash eyes your friends in a way you don’t like. “all your guests are pretty much here, so don’t worry about space.”

you look back at peter to see what he thinks. he shakes his head no. betty is nodding her head so fast you’re pretty sure she’s going to get whiplash. ned agrees with whatever she thinks, and mj doesn’t care. majority rules. plus, you could use one of flash’s playlists to liven things up. how bad could it really be?

“text everyone my address.”

people are flooding your house in the next fifteen minutes. like, your entire grade might be here. flash hooks his phone up to your speakers and blasts his songs. people grab fistfuls of candy and dance around. you’re running low on soda, but one guy brought extra drinks. alcoholic drinks, which you’re uneasy about. that was a big reason why you wanted to have your own party in the first place.

you don’t want to be a lame host, so you let it slide. a girl is sitting on top of your kitchen counter making out with someone. people are yelling so loud you can’t make out a single conversation. this is all going on and yet somehow, the most surprising thing is that they came in costume. some are more casual, like cat ears and lifeguard hoodies. it still counts.

feeling a little bit lost in your own house, you search for peter. he’s sitting on the top stair just watching what’s going on. you get his attention by throwing a mini packet of sour patch kids at him. he catches it, grinning when he realizes you did that. “i love these.” “good. they were the only ones left.” you take a seat next to him and scratch at the material of his vest for emphasis.

“i can’t believe you said yes to him.” peter opens the sour patch kids. the first one is yellow, so he offers it to you. sharing food with him always works because you each seem to like what the other doesn’t. “neither can i, but i think betty would’ve actually hurt me if i didn’t,” you joke while chewing. he rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. “please. she’s too nice.”

you lean your head on peter’s shoulder and grab another gummy. he pokes your arm in protest. “this bag is small. get your own.” you’re nuzzling your cheek against him. “i told you they’re gone.” he’s about to put an arm around you when someone screams downstairs. you quickly sit up.

“i’m gonna go see what the hell that was. i’ll find you later?” peter does his best to hide his disappointment. “yeah, of course. good luck.” you clench your teeth and run down the stairs. this is somehow flash’s fault.

it’s been an hour and a half, and peter is nowhere to be seen. the chaos was just that someone really liked the song that was playing. it didn’t take you long to figure that out. when you went to tell peter, he was gone. you’ve looked everywhere for him since, except the backyard.

a pretty big group of people is out here either playing catch or talking. someone also brought a case of beer outside. you spot mj huddled up by the fence with a bottle. it doesn’t necessarily surprise you. it’s weird to see, either way.

“have you seen peter?” you walk up to her. she uses the bottle to gesture somewhere. he’s in the middle of a conversation with liz. your entire body feels like it’s collapsing into itself. it didn’t cross your mind she would be coming even when the party moved to your house.

she’s nice and all. you don’t have any issues with her. not that she knows about, at least. peter had the biggest crush on her for about a month, then it fizzled out. that’s what he told you. unless, he said that to save face.

you’re speechless. mj figured you would be. she gives you a sympathetic smile and holds out her beer. “yep. drink up.” your instincts tell you to take it, so you do. she heads back inside and leaves you alone with your thoughts. that’s not good for you. the only to way to get rid of them is by chugging the rest of this bottle.

you’ve never had your own drink before, and technically you aren’t now. this is still the most alcohol you’ll ever have in your system. before you can change your mind, you take a generous swig. it’s bitter. you don’t hate it as much as you expected to, though.

your eyes land on liz touching peter’s shoulder. that inspires your next big gulp of beer. you finish off the rest, and it hits you fast. you’re understanding why this is such a popular vice. you don’t feel anything but how tipsy you are. light and floaty. you decide to stumble back into the kitchen and find out what other drinks people brought.

the bright color of your costume catches peter’s attention. he was wondering where you were. excusing himself from liz, he follows you in. you bump into betty on your way to the punch bowl someone filled. she’s holding a red solo cup with the mystery liquid. both of you buzzed, you laugh and grab her arm.

“sorry. s- sorry.” you’re squeezing behind her, her angel wings brushing against your face in the process. you have to weave through everyone to make it to the drink table. peter meets you there when you’re getting a cup. he’s shocked.

“y/n?” smiling lazily, you take a sip. “hey, peter. pete.” the sober voice in your head tells you to stop talking. he probably shouldn’t know you’re drunk. then again, your cup gives it away. “y/n, have you been drinking?” he sounds concerned. everything is funny to you right now. you giggle out a “yes.”

peter doesn’t want to be that person, but you’re not acting right. he reaches for your drink. you pull it away too abruptly, and some of it spills onto the floor. “you... you’re so...“ you start losing your balance. “woah.” peter wraps an arm around your waist to steady you. he takes the drink out of your hand and sets it on the table.

frowning, he throws your arm around his shoulders so he can help you get upstairs. “come on, y/n/n.” you don’t argue this time. you’re at the part of being drunk where it doesn’t feel good anymore. peter holds you close to his side and walks you out of the kitchen. he stops to talk to ned for a second.

“hey, man. y/n’s parents are gonna be home soon. could you get everyone out?” he says into his ear. “why can’t she do it?” peter moves out of the way so he’s not blocking you. ned sees. you’re completely faded. “oh, shit. is she okay?” he whisper yells. “i’m gonna take care of her.” “i’ll tell everyone to go.” peter presses his lips into a tight smile, then he’s taking you up to your room.

you flop down onto your bed face first. peter shuts the door behind you. “you okay?” he chuckles, you nodding with your face smushed into the comforter. he’d think it was cute if you weren’t piss drunk. gently nudging you, he moves you so you’re on your back.

“let’s get you out of this.” “ooh, betty was right. you do like me in a skirt,” you giggle and bat your eyelashes at him. he huffs. “no, i mean you have to put on pajamas.” you’re pouting now. “you don’t like me in a skirt?” after going through your drawers, he comes back over with a big t-shirt and fuzzy pants. “i never said that.”

you grin again and grab them from him. “ha.” “do you need help changing?” he sits at the edge of your bed. you’re still laying down. he’s not sure you can handle getting up. “no. don’t be creepy,” you say completely serious. peter has to remind himself you’re drunk. “you were the one who thought i wanted you naked, but ok.”

making peter close his eyes, you peel the costume off your body. you got pretty sweaty. you kick everything onto the floor and start putting on your pajamas. your head gets stuck in an arm hole by accident, so peter has to fix that. the rest is fine. he’s about to bring you into the bathroom to brush your teeth, but you face plant into his lap. you’re out.

the next morning, you wake up feeling like ass. your breath is hot and tastes disgusting. your head is pounding. you could throw up. you’re not even sure how you ended up in your bed. then, you notice peter sitting at your desk. he must have helped you in.

a vague memory of him tucking you under the covers while you whined comes back to you, along with a few others. one of them is of him and liz. the whole reason you did this to yourself.

“hey.” your voice comes out hoarse. “hi.” peter nods and points to your night table. there’s a fresh glass of water. you drink it all down as fast as humanely possible, a hand on your heart. it doesn’t phase him after what you did last night. you set the empty glass down and pat the spot next to you. peter sits by your side.

he’s still dressed as han solo, but his vest and belt are sprawled out on the floor. the boots are under your desk. he actually stayed all night for you.

“i think i’m hungover.” you rest your head against his arm. his body relaxes. “you didn’t drink that much. mj said she gave you half a beer,” he almost laughs, you groaning. “that means i’m a lightweight.” “for now.” your arm wrapping around his, you look up at him.

“sorry you had to deal with me. am i in trouble?” “nah, your parents don’t know. we cleaned everything up before they got home.” he lightly pats the top of your head with two fingers. you squeeze your eyes shut when he does it. “you did? thank you so much, wow.” peter nods and smiles for a second.

he lays his back against the pillow on his side. “let’s just pretend that never happened.” “you’re good at pretending,” you mumble to yourself. you’re not as quiet as you think because peter hears it. “um, what?” you feel too woozy to come up with a cover. letting out a breath, you take your head and hands off of him.

“i saw you talking with liz.” “she wanted to know if i could lead decathlon practice next week. she’s not gonna be in school,” he says slowly, not getting it. “why?” having to spell it out is making you frustrated. “didn’t you say you don’t like her anymore?” “yeah, i don’t.”

“so, why was she being all... touchy?” the jealousy is clear in your voice. peter shrugs. “that’s how liz is. i still don’t get why it matters.” you ease yourself to sit up and turn to face him. those three words you’ve been meaning to tell him are on the absolute tip of your tongue. they’re about to come out.

then...

“i like you, y/n.”

peter says them for you.

you’re so surprised you nearly vomit for real. or, it could be the possible hangover. almost a minute has gone by when you realize you’ve been sitting there with your mouth hanging open. you swallow your spit. “you... you do?” “a lot. i kept trying to tell you, but there was never a good time.” his voice is softer now.

“i realized after homecoming. i wished i went with you instead of...” he doesn’t have to finish the sentence. you nod, a small smile spreading across your face. peter’s eyes are so hopeful. “i like you, too. a lot.” your gaze trails down to his lips.

“i’d kiss you if my breath didn’t stink.” “i’ll let you owe me one.” he’s fully grinning now, and both of you laugh. they’re the kind of laughs you do because you’re so happy you don’t know what to say.

peter presses his lips to your temple, your eyes fluttering closed. “get some more sleep. i’m gonna ask you out when you wake up,” he mumbles against your hair. you grab his hand that’s resting on the comforter. “can you stay with me?” “of course.”

he lays down next to you. you pull back the covers so he can get under them. your head is resting on his chest, an arm around his torso. both of his hug your waist. you’re instantly comfortable cuddled up in his embrace. you drift off to sleep with a smile.

this feels like such a dream. it’s the exact type of situation you’d make up in your head. but, it’s real. peter is still holding you when you wake up. he’s not going anywhere.

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Curiosity Killed The Cat | Owen Patrick Joyner

Requested: Yes/No

Hi! I was wondering if you can do an Owen imagine kinda based off his Instagram story of him finding a cat. I was thinking he’d actually find the missing cat though and come ring your doorbell at 4am bc he’s chaotic. You can decide everything. Thank you in advance!!!

A/N: The cat doesn’t actually die in this, it’s just a saying that i liked for the title, so don’t worry! It’s got a happy ending!

Pairing: Owen x Fem!Reader

Song(s) used: none 

Warnings: none

Words: 3,949

A week. It had been exactly one week since y/n last saw her cat, Tunabean. The white, grey striped Ragamuffin cat had been absent from y/n’s apartment for way longer than she normally would be and it worried y/n to the point where she’d be out looking for the little rascal every night after work. 

“Found her yet?” Jamila asked as she entered y/n’s apartment after coming home from work. 

Jamila was y/n’s roommate and best friend since college. The two had lived together through their college career and decided to be roommates after too, as long as neither had significant others to go live with. 

“No,” y/n’s lip stuck out into a pout as she feverishly reposted the message on all her social media platforms. “People have been tearing down my posters as well. Did you see the ones near Andrews Park? They were torn to shreds!” 

Jamila pulled her lips into a tight smile before putting her bags on the dining room table and joining y/n on the couch. “Yeah, I saw. I’m really sorry, y/n. If you want, we can go and put up some more posters? Exchange the torn up ones with some fresh ones?”

“You’d do that for me?” 

“Of course! Sweetie, I’d do anything to get little Bean home, you know that, right?” y/n nodded her head in response, though she wasn’t sure if she knew that. 

Jamila wasn’t the biggest fan of Tunabean at first. She hated cats. Growing up, she’d always had a dog but never a cat. She didn’t trust the little rascals for one second. So, when y/n showed up with little Tunabean after having had what felt like the worst week of her life, Jamila was a tiny bit angry. But eventually warmed up to Tunabean when the little kitty seemed so placid, you could easily cuddle up to it on the sofa. 

“Let’s go find Zach at his work, bribe him to print me more posters for cheap, hang ‘em up around town and then maybe Tino’s?” Jamila’s eyes lit up at the mention of her favorite restaurant. 

She snapped her fingers and pointed finger guns at her best friend. “Sounds like a plan!” she said and wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. It was a cold November day and no person could leave their house consciously without being bundled up into layers and layers of clothing.  

“I hope Bean didn’t hide under a car and the owner didn’t tap the hood before getting in…” y/n muttered, her voice thick with worry, as they exited the apartment building and stepped into the blistering cold. 

“I’m sure she just found a few boyfriends and is spending her time with them,” Jamila tried to reassure her, but knew all-too-well that Tunabean wouldn’t stay away this long, even if she had a lover cat to make little kittens with. She loved Jamila and y/n’s home too much. 

“Are you slut shaming my cat right now?” 

“Our cat,” Jamila corrected, causing a smile to find its way to y/n’s face, “And no, I am not. I’m just trying to be optimistic here, y/n.” Jamila tucked her cold hands into the pockets of her tan peacoat. “I’m sure Tunabean is alright.” 

“What if she isn’t though? What if she’s like meowing somewhere in the middle of Norman and no one to hear her pleas?” Jamila rolled her eyes at how dramatic her best friend was being.  

“Norman ain’t that big, sweetie. I’m sure if she’s meowing somewhere, we would’ve heard her already.” 

“Exactly! Which means she’s either dead or god knows anywhere! She could be in Oklahoma City! We don’t know that!” y/n exclaimed loudly, using excessive hand gestures more so to keep herself warm than emphasis. 

Jamila stopped in her tracks and grabbed y/n by the shoulders, stopping her too. “Stop being such a drama queen, y/n! I’m sure Tunabean is fine. Maybe she’s on an adventure or making new friends, you don’t know that!” 

“You don’t care about our child, admit it,” y/n muttered. This rendered Jamila silent. “Admit you don’t care about our child, Jam!” Passer-byers shot them a weirded out glare, which Jamila sent right back. 

“Oh, please! Don’t pretend there are no lesbian families in Norman too!” she yelled at them. The comical side of the whole situation made y/n laugh a tiny bit. “There’s that smile I like to see.” Jamila softly touched y/n’s chin with her knuckle before grabbing the girl’s hand in hers. The warmth of Jamila’s hand radiating through to y/n’s made her feel all toasty. “Let’s go print some posters!”  

The girls reached a one-storey building with red decrepit letters stuck to the roof. 

HOOPER PRINTING CO. 

As y/n opened the glass door and held it for Jamila to walk in, the smell of ink reached her nostrils. Though not a very traditional scent to love, it reminded y/n of one of her best friends. It was like  her brain just knew that the muscles in her cheeks would soon start to hurt thanks to Zachary. A boy the girls had met in college as Xana. 

Jamila spotted the bleached blonde mop of hair immediately and signaled to y/n to sneak up to him. On their tippy toes, the two approached the tall slender man, and when they were close enough, they took in a deep breath and-- “Don’t even think about it,” Zach mumbled without even looking at them. 

Jamila and y/n glanced at each other, cheeks puffed out from the breath they were holding. “How’d you--?” y/n didn’t even finish her sentence as she looked past Zach and her eyes landed on a tiny tv screen. Cameras, of course. 

“Since when do you have security cameras?” y/n asked as she hopped onto the counter Zach was sorting invoices on. 

He shrugged, “Sometime this week, I think.” His bright blue eyes met y/n’s as she sheepishly looked at him while kicking her legs. The boy sighed exasperated, knowing all too well what the girls are here for. “No. Not again.” 

“Please, Zachy! Tunabean is still missing and her posters have been ripped down!” Her eyes teared up at the thought of her kitty being out there all by herself in Norman. All she could hope was that the creepy dudes from Doyle’s didn’t get their filthy paws on her little princess. 

“Come on, Zach. You love that cat too!” Jamila chimed in, crossing her arms across her chest and glaring at him knowingly. 

“Fine, come here,” he reached out his hand and y/n handed him the thumb drive on which she kept her self-made posters. “You’re gonna have to buy me Tino’s though.” 

“We were going there afterwards, if you wanna join?” y/n’s voice was teasing and sly. 

“I’m off at five,” he simply stated before pressing a few buttons on his desktop and waking up the printer closest to them. “How long has she been gone for?” he then asked after a few beats of silence. Y/N dropped her head and stared at her still moving legs for a moment. 

“About a week,” she replied. 

Zach pulled his lips into a tight smile. He reached his hand out and placed it gently on top of hers. “She’ll come back.” 

“How can you be so sure? She might be hurt somewhere or dead and I won’t even know. I won’t even be able to say goodbye to her.” Tears pooled in y/n’s eyes as she thought of the sweet little kitten she had found in a ‘take one for free’ box on a curb one day. She was the last one left. 

“I’m not sure, y/n. But I’d like to be optimistic. Besides, Tunabean is resilient and the most independent kitty I’ve ever known. She’ll survive. She’s probably out adventuring with some friends.” 

Though the words weren’t very reassuring and y/n knew she had every right to be worried, they did calm her down a little. Tunabean was resilient and extremely independent. She’ll find her way back home.    

*

“I’ll see you guys later, bye!” Owen waved at his friends as he stepped into the cold November night. It was 4 am and he was just returning home from a day spent with friends. He had fallen asleep during the movie, only waking up in the middle of the night, realizing his parents were probably worrying about him, seeing he’d told them he’d be home by midnight at the latest. 

He softly hummed along to the song that was playing in his head as he walked down West Main Street, his hands tucked deep into his pockets to try and keep them warm. He should’ve brought a thicker coat or a thicker jumper. 

“Ah, mister Joyner!” a familiar voice with a thick accent made him shake out of his train of thought about the cold. The friendly face of the robust Italian greeted him in the dim light of the restaurant behind him. 

“Still working, Tino?” Owen asked as he stopped in his tracks to talk to the man everyone in Norman, Oklahoma loved. 

“Already back at work, ragazzino!” he replied in his thick Italian accent. Owen always thought it was fake and just for show to lure clients, so that they knew he was a pure Italian man, sharing his love for the Italian cuisine in his restaurant. 

“At four in the morning?!” Owen exclaimed, stunned at the man’s determination for his job. 

“Deliveries don’t wait, signore.” His laugh boomed into the empty, dark streets of Norman. Owen couldn’t help but let out a laugh too while his eyes averted and landed on a poster in the window. A black-and-white picture of a small cat stared back at him.  

MISSING: TUNABEAN

Grey-and-white striped ragamuffin cat, listens to the name Tunabean. 

“She’s been missing for a week, the poor girl who owns her is worried sick,” Tino told Owen when he noticed what he was looking at. The blond twenty-year-old pressed his lips together. He only ever had a dog that had never run away, but he could imagine what it would be like to not know where your pet is. He would totally lose it if Bindi ever went missing. 

“I feel sorry for her,” Owen said, unsure of anything else to say. 

“Yeah, me too,” said Tino. “Keep an eye out for Tunabean, yeah?” 

“I will.” 

And with that, Owen continued his walk back home. The cat on the poster kept haunting his mind. Those big eyes were something he wouldn’t forget anytime soon. Thanks to said image plastered in his brain, he even started hearing meowing when he got to Andrews Park. It was a soft, fragile meow that had to echo through his brain for a few seconds before he realized it actually came from the bushes he was walking past as he passed through Andrews Park. 

Curiously, and kind of feverishly, Owen started to dig into the shrubbery until he found a tiny cat. “Oh, don’t worry, little one. I got you.” He said as he carefully detangled it from the branches. As he held it up to his face, he found the big, round eyes from the poster staring back at him in real life. “Tunabean?” he cooed, and the cat tilted its head ever so slightly. 

He stroked the cat’s head and scratched behind her ear before pulling it closer into his chest. She was shivering, but Owen wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or the fear. If she’d been missing for a week, God knows how long she must’ve been stuck in there. 

“You hurt, little one?” he mumbled to it as he absentmindedly made his way to the one person he knew could help. 

“Owen,” Emmy groaned when she’d opened the door to find him standing on the curb with a pout on his face. “It’s four in the morning, I have to be up in an hour for work.” 

“That’s why I’m here,” he said and showed her the cat he had tucked in his jacket to keep it warm. “I found her in the bushes near Andrews Park. Can you check if she’s okay?” Emmy’s eyes darted from the cat to Owen and back. “Please, Emmy? You’re the only one I know could help her out.” 

“Come on in,” she sighed, clearly disgruntled at the early wakeup call. But she couldn’t say no to a little kitty in need. She’d been rescuing animals since she was a little girl, she wasn’t going to leave this one in the dust. 

Owen placed the cat on the table as it meowed and nudged Owen’s hand with her head. “It’s okay, Tunabean, Emmy here is gonna make sure you’re okay.” 

“Tunabean?” Emmy asked as she put on latex gloves. 

“Yeah, I think it’s the cat from the missing posters you see all around town?” 

Emmy gingerly took the cat in her gloved hands and started her check-up. “Ah, yes! My brother and his buddies took some of them down, thinking they were ‘rebellious’.” She rolled her eyes. “You gonna bring her back?” 

“Of course, Tino said the owner was worried sick about her.” 

Emmy smiled at this. Owen had always been the compassionate one in their friend group. He’d only act upon things if he was sure it wouldn’t hurt anyone else. Though, sometimes that compassion vanished when they were with their friends and he got a ‘brilliant’ idea, which was most likely kind of dangerous. 

“Oh, look,” Emmy whispered as she showed Tunabean’s paw. There was a thorn stuck in the little pad. “Poor thing! Hold her for a second, please? I’m gonna get my tweezers to get it out.” Owen placed a hand on the cat’s stomach, his fingers lightly scratching at the white fur. 

Emmy returned with everything she needed, and within a few seconds, Tunabean was freed from the thorn in her paw and back on her feet. She suddenly seemed a lot more peppy than she was before. 

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” Owen said as he scooped the kitten back up into his arms, holding it close to his chest. Emmy took her gloves off and scratched the cat’s head. 

“Goodbye, Tunabean,” she cooed, earning licks from her rough little tongue. “Ooh, I think I got the girl’s address here somewhere. Tunabean is Anna’s client and we’ve got them in the system.” 

As quickly as she’d said it, she’d handed the address over to Owen. After thanking her profusely, Owen went on his way with the cat tucked safely in his jacket for warmth. 

He was nervous as it was already five in the morning and the woman most definitely was still asleep. But he didn’t want to keep her in even more suspense and worry about her cat as she already was. 

“Hello?” a sleepy voice sounded through the intercom. 

“Hi, I’m Owen, I think I got your cat, Tunabean?” 

A silence fell, only Tunabean’s sleepy snoring disrupting the peace and quiet of the night. The poor girl had fallen asleep in Owen’s arms. He almost felt sad he had to give her away again. 

It took a good minute before the door to the apartment building opened up and a girl in red flannel pj’s opened the door. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun with big strands falling out of it. Though she’d probably rather not be seen like this out in public, Owen thought she looked breathtaking, even in the dim light from the hallway of her corridor and the street lights. 

“You really got Tunabean?” she asked as she held onto the door, squishing herself in the small opening she’d granted herself. Owen opened his jacket and carefully showed her the cat who’d woken up from her slumber. “Tunabean!” the girl exclaimed and grabbed the grey pet from the boy’s hands. Their fingers brushed ever so slightly, and though y/n was too busy with her cat, Owen felt it. He felt the spark. 

“I would invite you inside for a drink to thank you, but my roommate is still asleep and I don’t want to wake her.” Owen held up his hand, a smile tugging at his lips as he shook his head. 

“That’s okay. I don’t need a reward. I’m just glad I could reunite the two of you again,” he said, smiling at the girl and her cat. “Oh! She did have a thorn in her paw though, but my friend is a vet and I took her to her for a check-up before I came here.” 

“Aw, poor Bean,” she scratched the cat’s head before turning back to the blonde boy. “Thank you. That’s very considerate of you.” He tipped his head forward, the smile still persistent on his lips. 

“Glad I could help,” he repeated, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jacket again. “I’m gonna go though. I’m sure you’d rather go back to sleep right now than talk to a complete stranger on your doorstep.” 

“Oh, uhm, okay… Goodbye then? And thank you again for bringing Tunabean back.” 

Owen took a few steps backwards as he said, “You’re most welcome. Goodbye, Tunabean and…” 

“Y/N.” 

“Goodbye Tunabean and y/n.” His eyes lingered on hers for a few more seconds before he turned around to really make his way home now, no distractions. 

“Wait! I didn’t catch yours!” she whisper-shouted after him. 

He turned again, but kept walking. “Owen,” he said. 

“Goodbye, Owen.” She grabbed Tunabean’s paw and waved at him with it, causing a giggle to rake through Owen’s body. With his hand still in his pocket, he waved back. 

The more distance he created between them, the bigger his smile became as he thought of her. She was the epitome of a beautiful dream come to life. It made him wonder what she’d look like if she did put effort into her appearance. That could just be the death of him. 

*

After two more hours of sleep, the alarm blaring through her room woke y/n from a beautiful dream with the mysterious blonde boy that rang her doorbell very early in the morning. It caused her to wake up with the thought of him, wondering if she’d ever see him again. 

“Morning,” she greeted Jamila when she found her best friend in the living room, gathering all her stuff. “Guess who came home last night!” As if on cue, the little cat pattered across the hardwood floor towards the dark beauty that was Jamila. Her eyes widened as did her smile upon seeing the white-and-grey ragamuffin. 

“Bean!” Jamila shrieked as she knelt down to pick the four-legged friend off the floor. “Oh, baby! I missed you!” She peppered the cat with kisses, receiving the kisses back from her tiny pink tongue. “Where’d you find him?” 

“Oh, I didn’t. This guy, Owen, did. He brought her back at, like, five in the morning,” y/n explained as she absentmindedly smiled at the thought of those pretty blue-ish eyes. 

“And this Owen guy is pretty cute, isn’t he?” Jamila asked upon noticing her best friend’s flustered demeanor. “Did you ask for his number?” Y/N rolled her eyes before she started gathering her things she needed for work. 

“It was five in the morning, I had just woken up and I was too busy with Tunabean’s return to even think of that,” she explained, mostly cursing at herself for not asking his number. “Besides, I looked disgusting, I doubt he thought I was the epitome of beauty.” 

Jamila simply shook her head, debating against saying any more about it before pressing a kiss to y/n’s cheek and leaving the apartment. 

A silence fell over the space, leaving y/n alone with her thoughts. Her beautiful, yet annoying thoughts of the handsome boy at her front door. “He was handsome, wasn’t he, Tunabean?” she asked her cat, who simply tilted her head to the side as she sat in front of y/n on the floor. 

Once y/n had gathered her stuff for work today, she said goodbye to Tunabean and left the apartment. She was fumbling around in her handbag to look for her car keys when a vaguely familiar voice made her look up. 

The gorgeous blue eyes she’d been dreaming of for two whole hours were staring down at her whilst the plump pink lips curled up into a dreamy smile. “Oh, hey, Owen.” 

“I wanted to come and check up on Tunabean,” he carefully said, pointing up at the building she’d just come out of. “You know, see if she’s okay and stuff.” He suddenly seemed nervous. More nervous than he did at five in the morning. 

“Uhm, she’s okay, actually. Slept well and seemed very chipper this morning,” y/n reassured him, a smile playing at her lips as her eyes scanned his face. She made sure to make a mental note of every single detail of his face. Like how he stuck his tongue between his teeth as he smiled or how his eyes squinted slightly or the stubble faintly growing on his chin. 

“Oh, okay, good. That’s--that’s all, then…” He awkwardly coughed. 

Y/N awaited anything else, her eyes darting left and right as they just fumblingly stood on the curb in front of y/n’s apartment. “I-uhm… I have to get to work though, so…” She pointed somewhere behind Owen, indicating she needed to pass him and get going. 

“Right!” he said and took a step aside to let her through. She offered him a little wave and a soft ‘bye’ as she passed him. He watched her walk away, cursing at himself for not asking what he really wanted to ask. “Wait!” he yelled, making her stop in her tracks and turn around again with an expectant look on her face. “That’s-that’s not what I wanted to ask. I mean it was, but it wasn’t the only thing I wanted to ask.” He scratched the back of his neck as y/n’s eyes searched for an answer on his face. 

Y/N looked at him with a piercing glint in her eyes, urging him to continue. 

“Oh, right! Uhm… Would you -- would you maybe wanna go have a drink with me later today? Or something?” Her smile grew wider as she slowly nodded her head in response. 

“I’m off at five. Meet me at Gray Owl then,” she told him before turning to walk away. 

Owen was left on her curb, wondering if he had died. He thought she looked pretty when she’d just rolled out of bed, but now that she was all dolled up for work, she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. And that smile. That smile was killer. 

She was more than the epitome of a dream come to life. She was beauty and grace. She was a poem and the poet. She was the lyrics and the melody. She was the question and the answer. 

Owen grew more and more curious about that girl the more he thought of her. He wanted to know what she liked and what she absolutely hated. He wanted to know how she laughed and how she cried, if she sang whenever her mind wandered. He wanted to know how she liked her eggs in the morning. 

Even though he knew curiosity killed the cat, he knew for a fact the cat in this story was just the beginning of something beautiful. 

 *

*

*

JATP taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon​ @caitsymichelle13​ @calamitykaty @wiselight @kcd15​ @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @stars-soph @kinda-really-lost @notasofti

Owen taglist: @alexpjoyner

Lemme know if you wanna be on my taglist! 

[collecting-stories]

Ten Years - JJ Maybank

Request: could u write something abt y/n and jj who have been together since they were like 12 and just make it super fluffy🥰

A/N: so there wasn’t really like, a full plot request so I just kinda went with this...hope you like it!

Outer Banks Masterlist

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

JJ stood in the entrance to the dressing room, phone in hand as he texted back and forth with Pope and swiped through different online stores. He was shirtless, wearing a pair of actual trousers, a far cry from the cheap ones he used to wear when he bused tables at the island club. He was supposed to be trying on different suits but it’d taken you an hour just to get him into these pants, you couldn’t imagine how the rest of the shopping trip was going to go. 

“Matching sweatshirts?” JJ asked, holding his phone out to show you a picture of dorky matching sweatshirts that said ‘player 1’ and ‘player 2’ respectively.  

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you rubbed a hand against your forehead and took a deep breath. You should have known that trying to shop would go south with JJ. “I love you so much but there is no way in hell I’m wearing matching sweatshirts with you.” 

“I can’t believe you’re not gonna wear matching sweatshirts with me.” JJ whined, pulling his phone away to send the picture to Pope. “I’m gonna get a new girlfriend who will.”   

“Ask Pope.”

“I am.” He replied, continuing to text.  

“Not right now JJ! You’re supposed to be getting a suit anyway, not standing around on your phone shopping for cheesy sweatshirts.” You sighed, finally standing up from the ottoman that was available for seating outside the dressing room. You tried to grab his phone from him but he slid away, socked feet gliding on the laminated floor. He backed further into the dressing area, toward the stall you’d ushered him into earlier.  

“What if you didn’t have to wear it out?” He asked, holding his phone out of reach when you tried to grab it again. As much as you enjoyed the sight of JJ in nothing but a pair of nice pants, and you did enjoy the sight quite a lot, he was starting to get on your last nerve. Especially when he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you against him, still holding the phone away with his other hand.  

“So what I’m just gonna walk around our house wearing a sweatshirt?” You asked. The little blue ranch house that you and JJ were renting on the cut was set back a little from the road but it wasn’t entirely void of neighbors. Not to mention the amount of times any of the pogues dropped in without warning. When you looked up at him you realized his eyes had glazed over, pupils dilated as he stared, completely unashamed, right down the front of your tank top. “JJ!”

“What...you in only a sweatshirt? Let’s skip all this and go straight to the honeymoon.” He suggested, grinning as he leaned in to kiss you.  

You let him, though you finally gave in to the eyeroll as he pulled away from you. It was like trying to corral a child into doing something. “Not exactly doing the big tent wedding here J. Now pick a suit.” 

“But if you don’t have to go out?” He whined, mind still on his stupid sweatshirt idea. You’d never matched clothes before and you’d heard him on more than one occasion mock couples who did, so why he was suddenly interested in the cheesy tradition was beyond you.  

“Oh my god, buy the sweatshirt, please.” You groaned, stepping completely away and heading back out of the dressing room, “but finish trying on suits first!”  

“Love you!” 

Your mom wanted a big wedding with all the people she was friends with invited as well as family members none of you had even seen in your lifetime but you had refused. It felt silly to do the big white wedding, silly and costly and not like you and JJ at all. The money saved for it had been spent on converting a VW bus that was a nicer version of the Twinkie, that he had parked out front of the house you’d been renting together since you turned nineteen.  

Still, even without the wedding, you wanted a semi-nice dress and him in a suit when the two of you went to City Hall at the end of the week to get married.  

Married. You were waiting for the word to make you feel different but so far it just felt normal. Like it was just supposed to happen.  

-

“Why are your eyes covered?” You laughed, walking into the living room to see JJ standing there in his suit with his hands covering his eyes. He’d obviously just been smoking before you came in because his juul was still in his hand too, trapped between his fingers.  

“I don’t wanna see you before the wedding!” He exclaimed.  

“You’re driving,” You laughed, grabbing at his hands. When you pulled them away he had his eyes shut. “JJ, open your eyes.” 

He opened one eye and then the other, slowing smiling as he took in the sight of you in the simple white dress, you’d picked out with Sarah a few weeks ago. It’d been sitting wrapped up in the closet so he couldn’t see it without you in it. “You look really beautiful.” He finally said, kissing you. “You’d look even more beautiful in matching sweatshirts.” JJ teased.  

“Oh my god JJ. I’m not wearing matching sweatshirts to get married.” You replied, taking the juul from him so you could put it away.  

“Then I guess the dress works.”

“Wow thanks.” You laughed.

Before you could walk away from him JJ grabbed your arm, drawing your attention back to him. “Hey, before we go-“

“We have like thirty minutes to get there.” You said, cutting him off. There was no way the two of you were going to make it in time.  

“It’ll be quick, promise.”

“What?” 

“I know we’re not doing vows but I didn’t exactly get any points for a romantic proposal either...considering. So I just wanted to say something before we leave, without everyone else around.”   

JJ’s ‘proposal’ had come about on a Tuesday morning. It wasn’t romantic, there wasn’t even a ring picked out yet. Instead JJ had been sitting on the other side of the island, trying to steal pieces of bacon off of Pope’s plate while he was in the bathroom, when you told him that your mom was giving you a hard time about the two of you living together.  

Your mom’s favorite words were ‘just a phase’ when she talked about you and JJ. It was just a phase that you were going through that had you attracted to someone she viewed as a ‘bad boy’ in every cliched sense of the term. Though you highly doubted at 22 that it was a phase. Especially when you’d spent the last ten years basically dating. Since the 6th grade winter formal when JJ asked you to dance with him.  

“She said ‘once you get out from under that roof you’ll see’ and I told her that I’m never moving. We’re gonna like get married and get a cat and have windchimes like Lana.” You had said, smacking JJ’s hand, “stop eating Pope’s food.”

“He abandoned it.” JJ pointed out.

“He’s in the bathroom, stop it.” You said, waving the spatula at him. “Anyway...she just...” you groaned, “I can’t stand when she does that like. We’re not in highschool anymore. Why can’t she drop the whole ‘this is temporary’ thing like...do you see these four walls? Not temporary.”

“Marry me?”

“What?” You froze, spatula in hand, staring at him in surprise.  

“Marry me.” He shrugged. “You said it yourself, this isn’t temporary. So, marry me.”

The wedding day, though it wasn’t really a wedding, had come quicker than the two of you had expected and now, if you weren’t out the door in five minutes, you knew that you’d be late. JJ was an erratic driver but nothing would get you to the other side of the island on time.  

“You’re gonna make me cry before we even get to the courthouse?” You asked, already feeling yourself get teared up. “That’s mean JJ.”

“I just want you to know,” He started to say, trying not to laugh when he realized you were starting to cry, “hey, come on...I didn’t even say anything yet.”

“I know, I know I just-” you looked up at the ceiling and blinked a few times, “oh god this mascara isn’t waterproof.”

“We’ll survive if your makeup doesn’t stay intact.” He promised.  

“JJ!” You laughed. “Okay fine, go, I won’t cry. I just...won’t look at you.”  

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“Just say the thing.” You insisted, waving your hand for him to go ahead.  

“When I asked you to marry me it was spur of the moment but it wasn’t just something I said because I thought it’d be fun or cute or whatever. We’ve been through...hell...together and I know how hard it's been and there isn’t any guarantee that it won’t be hard-”

“That sounds awesome,” you laughed but JJ could already hear the slight crack in your voice.  

“-shut up. You never let me finish anything.”  

“I do too!”

“You literally just interrupted me trying to be nice and tell you something romantic.”

“I’m sorry...go ahead.”

“No, the moment’s ruined.” JJ shrugged, grabbing his backpack off the table so that the two of you could leave.

You grabbed JJ’s hand, trying to pull him back toward the middle of the living room and away from the door, “no finish, tell me!”

“Fine, fine. You’re such a brat.” He laughed, “I was gonna say-”

The door opened and you groaned as Pope stuck his head in, “yo...guys, lets go.”  

“Hold on!” You whined and JJ wrapped his arms around you, holding you close and kissing your forehead.

“I’ll tell you later, while we’re in our matching sweatshirts.”

“Unbelieveable.”

-

taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife  @freckled-and-daydreaming  @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days @jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @tiredfeels @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana @tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla @vindictive-hearts @poguestyleskye @ssprayberrythings @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh @gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @kissessforharryyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee @linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @spencer-reid-is-a-cutie @mirjanak @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @wowitswondergurl @celestialmaybank @mybnkjj @pineappleandcherries @mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62 @calm-rejects @balletandyuzu @oh-annaa @aiifandomsunite @x-lulu @ceruleanjj  @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan @allie-mcginn @pcterparxer @literarycharleton @khiaraaa-in-spacee @crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @collectiveuniverses @activist-af @mdgrdians @buckys-sunflower @vindictive-hearts @copper-boom @talksoprettyjjx @5am-cigarette @smiithys @dontjinx-it @outerbanksbro @mysticsthinking @heavenlymama  @rudy-pankow-needs-an-oscar @babymatilda @raekenliar @jolomez @timotaychalabae  @summerkaulitz 

[peach-pops]

Roommate HC

Request:  hi i love ur account! do u think u could write a HC with kuroo, oikawa, and bokuto on how they would be as roommates! thank you!

Author’s Note: This request had me dying thank u so much! I made this to be platonic but if u guys want a part 2 to make them like each other/you want to see other roommate hc with other characters, let me know!

Warning: mentions of sex, adult language, reader thirsting over iwaizumi cause same 

Pairing: Kuroo || Oikawa || Bokuto 

Part two

-Kuroo-

You can only be roommates if you’re hella close with Kuroo because if you’re living in a closed space together, shit is bound to happen. He’s basically you’re best friend so nothing is off-limits. 

Exhibit A: Shower rants

“ And I told her to mind her own damn business before I kicked her ass!” You said loudly as you sat on the counter of the sink while Kuroo was showering

“ You liar I know you didn’t say all that. Also, can you hand me my toothbrush?”

“ Mm, okay, I didn’t say it but I was thinking it!” You grabbed Kuroo’s toothbrush and opened the curtain to hand it to him,” it’s the thought that counts but then she told me that I was being a bitch! In front of the whole class!” 

Kuroo opened the shower curtain to poke his head out,” She called you a bitch in front of the class? What a fucking bitch.” 

I feel like Kuroo sleeps in a bit and waits until the last second to wake up so you’re basically his alarm clock 

Your favorite way to wake him up is to just bash his head with a pillow until he grabs it from you and hits you back with it ten times harder

“ I think you gave me a concussion.”

“ I- It’s a pillow, you big baby.” 

Getting ready in the morning is always pretty chill since Kuroo practically rolls out of the bed, looks at his hair, and decides yep, this is stylish 

If he has extra time in the morning, he’ll sit on your bed and watch you do your makeup/hair as you tell him your schedule for the day just cause he can 

Can we please remember that Kuroo is a big nerd so that means a lot of all-nighters at the dinner table. If you know he has a big test coming up, you order takeout from his favorite restaurant and you have to physically sit across from him so he actually takes a break to eat dinner

Sometimes he falls asleep at the table while studying so you always grab his phone to set a 15-minute alarm because while he needs to sleep, he also needs the time to study too 

On chill days, Kenma usually comes over and the two play video games until the middle of the night. While they’re always super loud, that’s a lie it’s just Kuroo, but whenever they get too loud you come out of your room and you just glare Kuroo down 

“ What’s wrong with your face?”

“ My face? This face will be the last thing you ever see if you don’t shut the fuck up. Kenma sweetie, ✨you’re doing great✨!”

OH okay this is just a bonus

so your upstairs neighbors are like bunnies if ya know what I mean. Like they go at it 25/8 and you and Kuroo can’t stand it because how are yall supposed to concentrate 

One night while you and Kuroo are watching a movie, you can literally hear your neighbors having crazy-ass sex and Kuroo gets so petty. He grabs a broom from the kitchen and starts hitting it against the ceiling like

 ‘ Shut! The! Hell! Up!” 

“ STOP! What if they get mad?” 

“ Who cares? I haven’t had sex in months. If I can’t get laid than no one can get laid!”

“ I don’t even want to think about you and *gags* sex in the same sentence.” 

So all in all, Kuroo is probably the easiest roommate to have and you two just work so well together

-Oikawa-

Oikawa isn’t as bad as a roommate as people might think. He’s surprisingly clean and not only does he clean up after himself but he always cleans up after you. He will sass you on how messy you are though

“ Y/N-Chan, I can’t even see the floor to your bedroom, you’re disgusting! I can’t even look at you the same way!” 

“ If it’s bothering you then get the hell out of my room!” 

“ Your room is a biohazard, how can you live like this?” 

“ I SAID GET OUT SHITTYKAWA!” 

There’s only one bathroom in your apartment so it’s always a battle to get ready in the morning. His side of the sink has way more stuff than you and you even try out some of his products if they happen to find their way to your side

You can’t even hide it from Oikawa because once you leave the restroom, he notices right away 

“ Are you wearing that SPF moisturizer I bought from that new skincare store the other day?”

“ Wha- how did you know?”

“ I can smell it you rat, stop using my skincare products!” 

He says that but the next day when you wake up to use the restroom, you see that he bought you your own moisturizer and there’s a sticky note on it ‘ because you desperately need some’ 

Oikawa also always manages to lose his glasses in the morning so when he’s late, he always wakes you up to help him find his glasses which are somewhere around the apartment 

“ Bitch, how hard is it to keep it next to your nightstand before you go to bed?” 

“ I forget” 🥺👉🏼👈🏼Oikawa pouts as he squints back at you cause he’s a blind bitch 

If Oikawa is your roommate, that definitely means Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki are always over. One time in the middle of the night, you went to go get a glass of water and you screamed so loud when you saw a dark figure sleeping on your couch 

Your heart literally dropped to the floor but when you squinted your eyes, you could make out that it was Hanamaki just crashing on your couch 

Thank god, you actually thought there was a stranger-

What you didn’t know was that Matsukawa was sleeping on the floor of the living room and you tripped over his huge, built ass body 

“ Y/N? Is that you? Are you okay?”

“ I’m fine-”

“ Ow! Y/N, that’s my hand!”

“ Shit! Sorry- wait, Hajime? Is that you? What the hell-Who else is sleeping here?”

“ Meeeee!”

“Toru?!?! What are you doing out here?” You asked as you turned on the lights to find all four boys camped out in the living room. TF is this? Summercamp???

“ Duh, it’s a sleepover! Wanna join? You can lay next to me Y/N-Chan!”

“ Fuck no you weirdo. Except for you Hajime😚 my room is always open for you!” 🤩🥰🤪🤰🏻 

Oh speaking of frick fracking, you and Oikawa have a solid rule that if you’re planning on having sex, please let the other roommate know so there’s not a repeat of that one incident you’re not allowed to speak of 

Toru: Can you be out of the house from 8:30-9:30? I’m bringing someone over👉🏼👌🏼

Y/N: You bastard I was going to bring someone over!

Toru: Oh yeah? Who u trying to fuck?👀👀👀

Y/N: Hajime 🤤🤤🤤🤤

Toru: STOP THIRSTING AFTER MY FRIENDS

Y/N: BUT IT’S TRUE LOVE!

Besides all of that mess, Oikawa is such a fun roommate. If yall could live together forever, you definitely would because the banter never stops between the two of you, yall are like an old married couple uwu 

-Bokuto- 

JESUS you two take a while to mesh 

You two are best friends so when he suggested to move in together, you were all for it 

But it just took some getting used to 

Bokuto wakes up sooooo early to go run and this means blasting music in the shower at 5am & him blending the shit out a smoothie in the kitchen 

One time, this dude barged into your room around 5:20 in the morning and had THE AUDACITY to ask if you wanted to go run with him 

“ I feel bad leaving you here in the apartment alone, what if you miss me?”

“ If you ever wake me up this early to go run out of all things, I will shave your head do not test me owl.” 

He never asks you again don’t worry but he does walk in your room to whisper, rather loudly, that he’s leaving to go run just to give you a heads up

On some mornings when he knows you’re going to have a long day at school, he’ll make you breakfast and it’s actually super sweet cause you two will eat together in the kitchen and talk about what the plan for the day is 

If he’s ever too lazy to make breakfast, he’ll grab your favorite pastries during his run and bring it home cause he’s just that type of person 

Bokuto is a bit messy and you find yourself cleaning up after him a lot but he makes up for it by being an absolute sweetheart 

He assembled all the furniture in the apartment because he likes building stuff and he claims it’s manly. Don’t Mind my language but ✨U couldn’t give a shit ✨about building furniture so you were 100% okay with it

Akaashi came over to help put the couch together and that was arguably the most entertaining thing you had ever seen

“ Bokuto-San, I’m pretty sure these pieces don’t fit.”

“ Akaashi! Are you doubting my ability to read and follow instructions?!?!”

“ I think he’s right, those don’t fit at all.”

*cue emo bokuto ughhhhhhh this bitch*

Whenever Bokuto gets emo at home, you drop everything to help him get out of his funk. Not because what you’re doing isn’t important but if you don’t help, this dude will show up next to your bed full on close to crying

“ Ko, it’s two in the morning, why are you awake?”

“ Are you angry at me that I broke that plate earlier?”

“ Wha- no I’m not mad over a cheap plate. Just go to bed PLEASE!” 

No matter how busy yalls schedule gets, you two always make time to have a movie night at least once a week because he claims it’s good for roommate moral 

It’s just an excuse for him to snack through the pantry but whatever

He’s also the worst at grocery shopping. Like he notices all the snacks and desserts you like so he’ll buy so much of those things but will fail to get actual protein and vegetables 

I know it seems like I’m shitting on Bokuto and I’m not, I feel like Bokuto would also be such a fun roommate. There are some nights where you two will dance around together in your pajamas and camp out on the couch together and those are the moments where you’re thankful he’s your roommate

But he snores so loud I’M SORRY I HAD TO SAY IT 

[mae-gi-writes]

Plus One | Kevin Moon (Around The World Collab)

When your boyfriend of eight years suddenly decides to break up with you right before your destined trip for your cousin’s wedding, nothing can cure your broken heart. In a desperate attempt to make you feel better, Kevin states that he will be your plus one.

Genre: little angst, fluff, friends to lovers. 

This fic is part of a collab “Around The World”, featuring different countries x the boyz members. I had the utmost pleasure of working with such an amazing group of talented writers for this project, so please don’t forget to check out their works too! ^^ <3 

This fic is takes place on Mauritius Island. 

Word count: 9k IZ A LONG ONE SO BUCKLE UP BUTTERCUPS

Tagging: @aniyawoos​ @chaoticdeobi​ @moondustaeil​ @juyeonzz​ @atbzkingdom​ @2hyunjae​ @jopping-to-my-kpop @jeongsinkookie @ihearttbz​ @heartyyjeno​ @bahnmi07 @sadlandia​ @itsquxxn​

-----------

Eight years, gone just like that. 

I stare at a spot on my navy blue suitcase, not really focused on what’s before me and more concerned about the memories flickering past  my lids. I can’t help it. Everytime I see luggage, it makes me think of the way I kicked him out of my life. Everytime, a slab of pain will grab my heart between its icy fingers and squeeze it so that I can barely breathe. Everytime, until I feel like I’m drowning inside dark waters without the real desire to swim to the surface. 

My psychiatrist told me that it had been for the better. That it had been an obsessive, unhealthy kind of love in the first place. But was it better now that I couldn’t even feel my heart in the hollow space where it’s supposed to be? 

“Y/N.” 

Still, I remember the messages on his phone, the way his touch would feel strange, eerily hollow for some reason, the way he’d avoid my eyes whenever he’d tell me that he was going out with the guys. I remember smelling his coat and recoiling at the cheap scent of perfume clinging to it like second skin, how he’d constantly tell me how wonderful I was-- too wonderful for him -- and that I should find better, that I didn’t deserve someone like him.

And then, when I’d stumbled into our flat a little earlier than I was meant to -- since my gym class had been cancelled -- and took note of the trail of shoes, followed by a coat, a shirt, a thong, before my ears picked up on the noises echoing from the bedroom doors…

“Y/N?” 

His face when he spotted me, the astounded expression like a dog that had just been caught sneaking into the pantry. And the girl, a prettier woman, a curvy woman, with red lips and with those beautifully deep red wine locks tumbling down her back with the perfect physique that could make any man drool. That girl, who was none other than one of my good friends at work and who had spent most part of the year listening to my rants about him. 

“Y/N!”

“Huh?” My head whips up when I register my name being called out, looking up to see a raven-haired, petite-faced man leaning against the bedroom doorway with raised brows and a concerned expression on his face. 

“Oh, you’re here,” I say, as he crosses the doorway and sits beside me. The bed dips down under his weight as he tilts his head in that knowing manner of his, “daydreaming again?” 

“No,” I mumble, but he sees right through my facade and with a sigh, his arms wrap around my shoulder before pillowing his head against my shoulder. 

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs as I allow myself to lean back against him, against his comfort. His lavender scent wraps around me, a little bed of comfort amidst all the pain. 

“I can’t stop thinking about him,” I murmur, tears stinging the corner of my eyes, “it hurts, Kev.” 

He only holds me a little closer, a little tighter.

If there is one person that I can trust more than myself, it’s Kevin Moon. I’ve known Kevin ever since high school, having hung out in the same friend group until we had become partners for an art project. It was only then that we’d become closer, and had been close ever since. With his angular features and almond mono lidded eyes and thin lips that were constantly shaped in a pout, the Korean-born man had moved to Canada when he was young, just like I had a few years ago. He had kept me afloat during my university days, I had comforted him through his first break up. He had been present during my final Fine Arts Photography Exhibition, I was up all night coming up with re-branding concepts for his design project. Overall, Kevin had pretty much been a constant in my life, you get the gist of it.

When he found out that my boyfriend had cheated just a few days before our destined trip to attend my cousin’s wedding -- mind you, I had been sobbing waterfalls and it was a miracle he even understood me through my blubbering mess -- he had half a mind to storm up to the guy and rip his throat out. But he did the most surprising thing; booked a ticket for himself and turned up at my flat on the eve of the departure, stating that he was going to accompany me to that wedding, whether I liked it or not.

My cousin, Emma, was getting married right where home was: Mauritius. The memories I once had of the small island nestled right in the Indian Ocean on the right of Madagascar, was of my grandma’s comforting food, the sea scented air that washed along with the too-white sandy beaches, the multitudes of merchants selling all kinds of fresh fruits and vegetables on the side of the road, and small corner stores that looked like they had come out of a 1960’s movie. People liked to claim that Mauritius was paradise on earth, and in a way, it is.

“Come on,” Kevin had nagged when I shook my head adamantly. He’d wriggled his plane ticket before my nose, “you’re not going to let that loser spoil such a happy event are you? Emma’s waiting for you!” 

In the end, he’d won. Which is why we are here, staying at my cousin, Emma’s, apartment in a village called Moka, located at the foot of a mountain and has an abundance of forestry adorning the sides of the road. It's chilly here, in comparison to the harbourfront, and constantly smells like fresh rain and has a gentle fresh breeze blowing through.

“You know, assholes like him are not worth thinking about,” Kevin says now, his arm a gentle soothing caress up and down my back, “your brain might rot.” 

I can’t help but let out a soft, choked up laugh.

“It’s our first day here, let’s not ruin it by thinking about him, hm?” Kevin continues soothingly and I nod in agreement. He’s right. I’m just wasting time by reliving memories that I should be banishing from my mind. 

“Okay!” he brightens up then, “where shall we go? The sea? The market? Or do you want to go eat?!” 

--------------

The first few days are about meeting up with family and rediscovering Mauritius for what it is. Emma gives me a full-fledged hug the moment I open the door to her house, pressing me close to her with such motherly warmth that it takes everything in me not to break down right then and there. I greet my uncles and engage in small-talk with my aunts, help my grandma out in the kitchen as she continuously asks me why I’ve gotten so thin. While I know the main reason, I decide to smile and spare her the details, as embarrassing as it is. 

No one mentions him, until one of my uncles slips during a conversation with Kevin, “so you’re Y/N’s boyfriend. Such a pleasure to meet you! We’ve heard so much about you that we started thinking she was just making things up.” 

“Er--” Kevin reddens, “I--��� 

“So how did you two meet?”

It is at this very instant that my mouth decides to move on its own and I blurt out, “we’re high school friends.” 

“Oh highschool sweethearts! How cute!” 

Kevin doesn’t fail to mention what a mistake I’ve made to lie to my entire family to save face.

“I feel guilty,” he says as we walk out to the car, keys dangling from my wrist. 

I unlock the car, “it’s fine. We’ll be in and out before they know it. They don’t have to know anything.” 

“Hm, sure.” 

After some well-deserved family time, Kevin and I decide to head to the west of the island to catch the sunset, my camera stuffed neatly in the backseat, where Kevin has tossed a few spare towels just in case. We each have donned our swimsuits for the occasion and it doesn’t take an expert to see the excitement thrumming through Kevin’s veins as he sits beside me like an excited child in the passenger seat. 

“I never realized that you guys drive on the left side of the road,” he comments, head whipping back and forth in-between the passage of cars. 

“Yeah, it takes some getting used to, especially if you’re crossing,” it is then that I notice that there is a newly built mall as we turn left at the green light, “hey, that’s new. I’ve never seen this before.” 

“Cas-ca-velle,” he mumbles out with that strong accent of his. He is definitely not one to know French and I’ve been acting as his translator all along, considering that my family speaks French at home, “what does that mean?” 

“Beats me. It’s just a fancy name for a new shopping mall,” I peer into its parking lot, “wanna visit?” 

“Whatever floats your boat, honey. I’m all in.”

The mall is longer than it is wide, with white archways decked with wooden-style roofs that give way to an open-plan exterior. A wide beige cemented pathway occupies the space, with shops lined on either side. 

“I never realized, but you guys are very multicultural,” comments Kevin as we pass by another family of four chattering quickly in a mixture of French and Creole. 

“We’re similar to Canada that way.” 

“Do you miss it here?” 

My eyes glance over at him, notice the soft empathy in his expression.

“I guess I do sometimes,” I say while I kick at a stray pebble, “It’s like homesickness. But in a way I can’t quite explain,” after a moment, I ask, “do you miss Korea?”

“The food, mostly,” he grins bashfully, “my halmeoni makes a killer gamja tang.” 

“Let’s go visit her one day.”

“Is that a promise?” he asks as I shrug, “if you want it to be.” 

It’s a little past six when we drive up to the Flic En Flac beach and as we gather our things, my eyes light up upon falling on a nearby roti stand. I quickly slap Kevin’s arm in my bout of excitement. 

“Ouch! What? What is it?” 

“Kevin, you’re not going to believe this,” I point at the stand in question, “this roti stand? It’s the best roti in Mauritius. Here, take this,” I don’t wait before shoving my bag and camera in his arms, “I’m gonna buy us some. You go and find us a spot on the beach.” 

“But--” 

I don’t wait for him to finish his sentence before taking off, greeting the merchant who is just about to be wrapping up to ask whether I can get two rotis with ‘cari saumon’ (roughly translated into salmon curry mixed with indian spices), local and freshly made. The smell wafts through the folded paper wrappers as I grab them. They smell just like my childhood, where everything had just been as easy as having rotis by the beach without a care about the future that is to come. It’s nostalgic and I can’t help the smile tugging up my mouth at the thought. 

Kevin is already settled atop a pair of spare towels and looks up at the sound of my footsteps approaching. I pass him one of the paper wrappers and he takes a peek, confusion flitting across his face. 

“This smells spicy,” he mutters loudly enough for me to hear, “it looks like naan bread.” 

“It is,” I agree, “except it’s flatter and more like a crepe.” 

Throwing me a hesitant glance, he takes a small bite. I watch his face go from confused to impressed in a few seconds, before his eyes whip up to mine, “woah, this is good.” 

“Told you so.” 

“But this is really, really good,” he can’t help but marvel at it and laughing, I proceed to dig into my own roti, allowing my mouth to be filled with that salty fish taste melting along my tastebuds, the curry spices giving it the nice tangy kick you wouldn’t find anywhere else. The roti is soft and practically melts on my tongue and I can’t help but moan at how good it is. 

“God, this is everything I’ve been looking for my whole life,” I find myself telling him, wrapped up in momentary bliss, “this, this is everything.” 

I can feel his eyes on me, so intense that my own flicker up in question. He drops his gaze the moment I do and I frown, confused. 

“What?” I can’t help but ask, wondering why he suddenly seems so meek, so shy and awkward, “what is it?” 

“Nothing,” he replies like he’s trying to be casual, except that it’s anything but. When he gazes back at me, I notice the warmth in his maroon eyes, more the color of caramel in the dim light from the sunset basking his profile in a golden glow, “I think--I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you so happy, since...” 

He doesn’t need to continue, for I know where this is going. Indeed, this is the first time in many months that I haven’t paid any attention to the hole inside my heart. 

And it feels good.

“Yeah,” I murmur as I watch the sun settle on the ocean’s horizon, fire kissing water, “I don’t know, I just feel like this is nice. Like it’s right.” 

I spare him a glance from the corner of my peripheral and watch him shift. His sleeveless shirt slips, allowing me a glimpse of the naked skin underneath. I quickly look away, slightly embarrassed at the notion of even thinking of him in such a way. 

“That’s how you should be, Y/N,” Kevin murmurs back just as softly. It’s almost like talking too loudly will break the sudden spell that has settled over our shoulders. He takes a sip of his beer before continuing, “you’ve suffered enough for someone who deserves nothing but shit for what he’s done.” 

There’s a small pause as I digest his words. Then, I manage to murmur out, “thanks, Kevin.” 

“No problem.” 

Another small bout of silence ensues, covered up by the sound of the ocean roaring up the sand, distant birds chirping in the fading light of the sunset drowning into the now orange-flecked waters. 

“Hey Y/N.” 

I glance at him. He’s gorgeous, even more so somehow. Maybe it’s the time of the day, maybe it’s the mood, or maybe it’s the way my heart can’t help but be swallowed in gratefulness whenever I look at him.

“What?” I ask.

“Do you know water has memory?” 

I choke on my beer, “do not-- and I mean this-- do not quote Frozen with me.” 

“Huh, I tried.” 

---------------------------

“So, Kevin huh?” 

My eyes shoot up to meet Emma’s in her crusty-dust-filled mirror, presently lounging on her bed and flipping through a book as I had been trying on my bridesmaid gown. Kevin is downstairs, helping out with the barbeque grill with the rest of the family, and it is only now that I get to have some alone time with the woman I consider my sister. 

She’s the only one that knew the exact details of my breakup, and that Kevin is only a mere replacement to cover my humiliated ass. I remember her trying to calm me down when I had called in a frenzy, practically hyperventilating because of the amount of pain that gripped at my heart and was choking me of all air. 

I revert my eyes back to the dress, a baby blue as bright as a summer sky, and smooth my hands down my sides, “he’s been so good to me, ever since…” I can’t finish the sentence, voice already wobbling at the thought that comes with it.

“Hey,” Emma’s murmur causes me to look up, and in her eyes I see a flicker of understanding, “he’s not worth it.” 

“I know,” I swallow back the tears crawling up my throat, “I know, it’s just--a hard pill to swallow.”

A hand comes to a rest at my elbow, before my cousin tucks her chin atop my shoulder, “it’ll be alright, Y/N. He doesn’t deserve you." 

I nod. Then, just to change the subject so that I don’t break down in her arms, I gesture towards the dress, “so? How does it look?” 

Emma tugs at some pieces here and there, rearranging the fabric as she sees fit, “I think it looks good. You look gorgeous. Kevin will swoon, for sure.” 

“It’s not like that,” I hurriedly say as I strip out of the dress and put it back on its hanger, “we’re just friends.” 

“Mhm,” she throws me a pointed look, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of her lips, “'just friends' doesn't feel right..” 

“Emma, really? Right after my breakup?” 

“He came to Mauritius just for you Y/N,” she squeezes my shoulders comfortingly, “doesn’t that count for something?” 

“Well, we’ve been friends since high school so…”

“I don’t think just any friend in high school would do such a thing if I asked,” Emma catches my eye in the mirror, her gaze deep and meaningful, “just think about that.” 

I just nod in hopes that she’ll stop yapping away at my nonexistent relationship with Kevin, whatever that means. The hole in my heart is still so raw and filled with pain that I can’t even start thinking about another relationship. The thought alone is enough to drain me of all energy and I decide to brush it off for now as I follow Emma out in the backyard now filled with familiar chatter and the smell of cooked meat wafting through the air, with the sky bruising a soft purple to signal the end of a long summer day. 

Catching sight of Kevin as I bring out one of the many salad bowls that my family has prepared, my lips can’t help but twitch into a slow smile when I see him by the grill, whipping away the multitudes of flies zipping back and forth as my other cousin deftly flips the sausages upside down with a trained rhythm that only years of experience can bring. 

“Kevin! You’re not doing your job right!” my cousin cries playfully. Kevin attempts to flap the newspaper around while screeching, “oh god, my eyes are burning!"

“Someone bring more meat!” My cousin hollers. 

“There’s more?!” 

“He’s doing a great job,” my grandmother’s voice brings my attention back to the salad bowl in my hands, and I quickly bend to kiss her cheek as she continues, “better than any of your other cousins. They never help out.” 

“That’s because you pamper them too much, grandma,” I grin at her and follow her to the dining table where my aunts are already settling down amongst themselves. 

The evening passes by with good food and good company, the sky darkening and dotting with a veil of stars that has Kevin gawking in awe. I'm not surprised, you don't see skies like that anywhere, a sky that isn't so intoxicated with modern chemicals. My uncles take it upon themselves to introduce Kevin to all the types of Mauritian delicacies, such as chickpea fritters we call 'gato pima', small balls of graped choko vegetable and minced pork 'niouk yen', and to top it all off, a plate of cornmeal pudding also known as 'pudine mai' that makes Kevin's eyes go wide with surprise.

"This is dessert?" He holds it up in his hand, "with ...cornmeal?"

"Sure is," one of my aunts chime in with a smile, "made it just this morning."

It's past midnight when we get back to our little apartment with Emma's dress hanging off my arms, which Kevin doesn't hesitate to grab from my hold despite my protests. 

"It's fine dude," he flashes me a quick smile, albeit tired, and my heart does this weird little squeeze in my chest at his thoughtfulness. 

He's kind. Too kind. I really don't deserve someone like him. 

"I'm sorry," I say as we settle onto the small couch, shoulders fitted snugly against each other, "my family is kinda overwhelming."

"No no," Kevin looks over, edges of his lips curled up, "I actually love your family, you know."

My chest warms, "thanks."

There is a moment of silence that we enjoy, the day's events sinking into my bones. 

"Hey," he murmurs.

"Hm?"

My eyes slide over to catch his, dark pools glimmering with a certain softness that catches my attention. 

I bite my lip. It suddenly feels a little warm.

"What is it?" I ask, voice hoarse.

"Is oreo a sandwich?" 

I sit up so suddenly that I jostle him, "wait--what?"

He grins up at me with that little nose scrunch that I can't help but find endearing, "is oreo a sandwich?" I open my mouth to answer but he beats me to it, "is cereal a soup?"

"Stop."

Reclining back to lace his hands at the back of his head, he says, "is ketchup a smoothie?" 

"Stop it."

"What about hotdogs? Are they sandwiches?" He continues in a singsong voice and rolling my eyes, I make a move to punch him once more. But he's faster, hand shooting out to hold my wrists. He pulls me over and I stumble, knee pressing against the side of his leg. 

"Come on. Answer it," he wriggles his eyebrows.

"Nope."

“Don’t be a party pooper.” 

“You’re so annoying.” 

"Are you sick of me yet?" His face is so close that I notice the creases at the corner of his eyes when he smiles.

"That's an understatement."

"But really, do you think oreo is a sandwich?"

"No! Oreos are just oreos!"

“You’re no fun,” He pouts before finally releasing his hold. I draw back with a roll of my eyes, settling beside him once more and pillowing my head onto his shoulder.

Emma’s right. Kevin had sacrificed so much to be here with me, and he doesn’t even know Emma. Yet, he immediately dropped everything so that he could be my plus one, so that I wouldn’t have to face the music alone. The thought makes my heart swell with emotion and suddenly I’m all too aware of his presence beside me. 

I shift to gaze at him, eyes tracing the curve of his nose, the indent above his lips before I whisper, “hey Kevin.” 

“Hm?” 

“Why’d you come?” 

His eyes flicker over to mine then. A heartbeat passes. For a moment, I wonder if he can hear my heartbeat suddenly throbbing a little too loudly in my chest. 

“Good question.” 

Another pause. 

“That’s not an answer,” I laugh slightly, to show that it’s all just fun and games.

But when I catch his eyes next, there’s something else brimming in them. They’re tender with emotion and it catches me so off guard that I almost don’t catch his next set of words:

“Because I care about you.” 

My heart gives a quick lurch but I somehow can’t tear my gaze away. I want to say something. Anything. 

But all I can muster is a soft, “oh.” 

“Why do you ask?” he asks, voice hoarse.

I hesitate, “Emma asked why. And...I guess I wanted to know too.” 

“Oh.” 

The air feels heavy, heightened with the things that are threatening to slip off the edge of my tongue. A mixed series of ‘but why’s and ‘can’t you tell me more’ jumbling up my thoughts with so many possibilities that I decide to stay quiet for the sake of not ruining the moment. Because there’s this lingering fear that once I do say something, then it’ll just pull me down a rabbit hole that I can’t crawl out of, that the only escape lies on the other side.

And I don’t know if I want to take that leap yet. My heart is already so fragile with the aftermath of a love that went wrong. I don’t know how much more I can take. 

So I just stay quiet and let out a soft sigh, and though Kevin shifts as if he wants to say something, he doesn’t. The question just hangs there between us, in-between the slithers of moonlight and in the cold Moka air, like a perpetual ghost we ignore as we drift off to sleep.

----------

Something shifts between us after that. It’s unspoken of, but suddenly, I am all too aware of Kevin as a whole. Things that I hadn’t noticed before surface as we spend most of our free time visiting the rest of the island; like how he loves ruffling his hair whenever he feels uncomfortable, or the way his bicep curls as his arm drapes over the wheel with the barest hint of muscle that is enough to be attractive yet subtle, or how he smirks in that attractive way of his whenever he thinks something is undeniably adorable. 

The good thing about having Kevin is that I don’t get to think of him all too much, which is a blessing in itself. It’s been days since I’ve shed another tear and for that, I have to say I’m glad that I’m making progress.

We spent the last few days before the wedding traveling around the island to visit all the touristy spots that I know Kevin will enjoy, like a hike all the way to the top of Le Morne mountain, where I explain that’s where slaves would throw themselves off when their masters would find them. We visited Bois Cheri, a tea-making factory where Kevin had the pleasure of tasting all different kinds of teas cultivated in the fields below, and ate lunch on the Caudan Waterfront as we gazed at the boats lulling along the harbour. 

“Woah, this place makes me feel like I’m in Aladdin somehow,” Kevin’s mouth is wide agape as his eyes try to take in the endless racks of stands selling fresh fruits and vegetables of the day. The Port-Louis Bazaar has always been one of my favourite places to visit, but it’s also one of the busiest. Even now as we attempt to squeeze our way through, people are jostling us here and there, causing me to press my bag to my chest in case any pickpockets are nearby. I prompt Kevin to do the same. 

“Hey Y/N, I wanna check out the bags over there,” Kevin motions towards the hand-woven baskets situated at the far end of the market and I nod as we keep moving forward with the crowd like a pair of salmons trying to swim upstream. But there’s so many people, it’s so suffocating that it gets hard to keep up with Kevin’s figure. Someone elbows my shoulder and I groan, stumbling to the side in irritation, only to get pushed forward by another. 

“Seriously--” I curse under my breath, when a hand suddenly appears before my eyes.

Looking up to see Kevin’s outstretched arm, I am only greeted with his bashful smile and averted eyes. 

“Come on,” he doesn’t even wait for my consent before slipping his palm over my own and tugging me along, his hold firm and strong despite his skinny frame and the action is enough to render a flurry of butterflies soaring over my stomach. 

Stop, I try telling my subconscious. That does nothing, however, to stop my neck from tingling with unfamiliar heat. 

Kevin’s hand feels so warm. It’s comfortable, safe. 

And I’m liking it a little too much.

He doesn’t let go when we reach the desired stand and talk over which bag looks the best and keeps his hand in mine for the entirety of our journey back to the car. Only when I unlock the doors that his palm finally drops from my hold and air rushes over my palm that is now a little too cold without his warmth. But while a multitude of questions are burning the back of my throat, they fall apart halfway through at the thought of his answer, before I decide to drop it altogether. 

Kevin, on the other hand, doesn’t seem the least bit affected. 

When the day of the wedding finally rolls around, I drive my car to Emma’s after a quick breakfast that Kevin surprised me with -- to my surprise, he’d managed to make a decent eggs and toast without burning the place down -- so that I can help her get into her gown and more importantly so that she doesn’t run away, lest her mind goes in a frenzy at the thought of tying the knot. 

“You’ll be fine,” I reassure her, teasing a few of her curls so that they slip down to her chest in a perfect wave. She looks stunningly beautiful, with her strapless white dress that shimmers with diamonds in the light with every movement she makes. 

I reach out to smooth over her veil so that it falls on either side of her face, frames her perfectly, and notice her big brown eyes staring back at me through her vanity mirror. 

“You look beautiful,” I can’t keep the awe from my voice. 

Her face blossoms into a smile, “you too.” 

“Ah come on, you can’t say that to me on your wedding day,” I shove her playfully on the shoulder, “you’re the star of the show. Don’t let anyone take that away from you.” 

“Okay mom,” she rolls her eyes before changing the subject, “So, how have things been? With Kevin?” My hands freeze in mid-action, “It’s good.” 

I don’t have to look at her to know that she’s giving me a pointed look.

I sigh, “well, okay. Maybe you’re right. About the whole…’just friends’ thing not being true.” 

“Why?” she straightens up, turns to me, “what happened? Did you kiss? Did he make a move--” 

“No we didn’t kiss,” I’m quick to answer as my cheeks heat up. And after a few beats of hesitation, I give her a summary; the way he’d looked at me that night with eyes that held so much in them that it had made my chest swell, the way that he’d snitch glances at me whenever he thought I wasn’t paying attention, and the fact that he’d grabbed my hand and didn’t let go even long after the crowd wasn’t an issue anymore. 

Emma’s eyes are wide and sparkling with a feeling that I know all too well, I can practically see the cogs turning in her head and quickly shook mine in rapid retaliation, “Emma, no.” 

“But--But he’s perfect for you!” she bellows in protest, “What do you mean ‘no’?!” 

“I can’t go there. Not after,...not now, it’s too soon…” 

She rolls her eyes, “it’s not like he’s asking you to marry him, christ’s sake. He likes you, and I feel like you’re only trying to deprive yourself because you feel like it’s not right.” 

“It’s not right--”

“Who says so?” she cuts me off then, her gaze hardening on mine with such intensity it takes everything in me not to flinch back, “who says it’s not right? It doesn’t matter if it’s after two days, two weeks, two months. You think I don’t know how it feels to be heartbroken? You can’t just keep thinking about the past. You’re going to hurt yourself that way.” 

My teeth sink down onto my lower lip, her words like ice-cold knives aimed straight at my chest. 

“What you can control, right now, is the present, Y/N.” 

“I know,” I mumble out half-heartedly.

“I can see it, you know, the way he looks at you,” she shakes her head, “even if you don’t like him back, you gotta be aware of all that he’s done for you.” 

Her hands find their way to mine, enclosing them in her grasp before squeezing them with such care that I can’t stop the tears crawling up the back of my throat. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs next, “I don’t want to pressure you if that’s not how you feel. That--That was not my intention,” her eyes latch onto mine, filled with understanding, “I just want you to be happy.” 

Happy. 

That’s a word I haven’t heard in a long time. 

“Don’t you dare cry now,” Emma says while waving her hands around in warning, “you’re going to ruin your makeup and we definitely don’t want that.” 

I sniffle, trying my best to hold in the tears now brimming through my eyes, “you’re right,” I attempt to smile, albeit it’s wobbly, “we don’t.” 

“Come here,” she tugs my arm so that I fall into her embrace. Her head finds her way to my shoulder and she hugs me tight, not caring that her veil is getting all bunched up and wrinkled, “you’ll be okay,” she whispers, one hand stroking my back, “you’ll be just fine, little one.” 

Then, pulling back and pushing a few strands away from my face, she flashes a bright smile, “we should probably head to the church soon.” 

----------

“We now declare you, Vincent and Emma, as husband and wife.” 

The church explodes in a round of applause and I join in the clapping, furiously trying to keep the tears of joy at bay. Vincent has been there for Emma ever since they met at work and it has been the most beautiful love story ever since; filled with the purest kind of love no one can imagine. Beside me, I feel Kevin’s hand coming to squeeze my shoulder in a reassuring manner and I feel warm all over despite the rush of emotion in my heart. 

The wedding reception is to take place at a fancy restaurant overlooking the harbourfront. Our family has booked the venue for the evening, and as I enter, I take in the baby blue veils that come down each corner of the restaurant, sprinkles of glitter here and there as we make our way to our assigned tables that each have a baby blue napkin shaped in swans. 

I don’t even have time to place my butt down when I hear a voice call out, “Y/N! Look how big you’ve gotten!” 

Of course, big wedding ceremonies only mean that we get to meet all of our extended family that we haven’t seen since forever, and they’re all too happy to chat with me about living overseas. Soon enough, I’m bustled off to a table and look back over my shoulder to mouth a quick “I’m sorry” to Kevin. Bless his soul, for he only smiles and shakes his head, his hand motioning for me to go on.

I manage to catch up with cousins I haven’t seen since I was a little girl, talk over appetizers with excited aunts who want to know all about how it feels like to live away from family for such a long time, and nod along to the old uncles trying to get me to give a concrete answer about when and where will my wedding take place. 

“Come on Y/N! You’re the next one after Emma for sure,” one of my uncles bellow, face flushed red as a result of the glasses of wine he has downed like water. He is Emma’s father, no surprise that he’ll want to get drunk from happiness and pride. It is his daughter’s wedding after all. 

He leans close with a conspiratorial look in his eyes, “so tell me,” his eyes glance over to Kevin, currently deep in conversation with another one of my distant aunts. I watch as he says something to make her laugh, and something inside my chest warms at the action, “is he the lucky guy that’s going to ask for your hand?” 

“Do you think he’s the one?” another uncle pipes up. 

I purse my lips and attempt to shrug, “it’s early days,” I try laughing it off although it sounds forced, “who knows what can happen.” 

“He’s a good kid,” an aunt says, “you know how we all have this sixth sense? Well Y/N, I have a good feeling about this young man. Don’t let him go. Something tells me he’s a keeper.” 

A wild imaginative speculation, considering that we’re not even dating. But I nod along and say that yes, I’ll tell them whenever I decide to tie the knot.

It’s only when the dance floor opens and people start pooling onto the dance floor after the first dance -- led by no other than the bride and groom themselves -- that I finally allow myself to breathe. I find my way back to my chair, back to Kevin’s warm smile flashing in my direction as his eyes take in the fatigue lining my face. 

“You look like you could use a drink,” is the first thing he tells me the moment I plop my butt onto my designed seat, the one that’s been kept cold ever since I stepped foot into the dining hall. 

I gratefully accept the glass of wine he offers me, swallowing it down in a few gulps, “thanks,” I sigh with relief, “I needed that.” 

“How was catching up with family?” 

“It couldn’t be as bad as being left behind,” I peer over at him, guilt flooding me at the prospect of having left him all alone, “sorry. It’s just that everyone--” 

“Oh stop that,” Kevin nudges my shoulder with his, “don’t be sorry. It’s totally normal. I’m happy for you. And I wasn’t left behind. I had a wonderful time talking to your aunt. She seemed so happy to tell me what your childhood was like.”

“Bet you liked that, didn’t you?” 

“Hey, it works as blackmail. Why wouldn’t I like that?” 

“Dork.” 

“You’re friends with this dork.” 

“Oh piss off,” I slap his shoulder playfully in retaliation, causing him to laugh softly as we watch couples glide across the dance floor like swans over water. The lights have dimmed, the yellow hues now replaced by soft cool blues and purples that cause Emma’s dress to shimmer every time she turns. She’s absolutely stunningly beautiful, and the way she and Vincent are gazing at each other just scream of pure love that wraps around them in a golden mist so enchantingly beautiful that I find myself catching my breath in the back of my throat. 

“She’s so beautiful,” the words fall from my mouth without meaning to, and I feel Kevin’s eyes on my face from the corner of my peripheral.

“You are too.” 

I bite my lip and narrow my eyes at him playfully, “thanks, but why do I have a feeling that this isn’t a compliment?” 

“It isn’t,” he holds my gaze, “it’s just the truth.” 

Emotion lodges at the back of my throat. I stare at him. He stares back, a glimmer of tenderness echoing through the dark pools of black, his whole expression relaxed into a face that appears flooded with affection for--

Me. 

For some reason, no words seem to come to me as I open my mouth and close it. Embarrassment slowly bubbles through my stomach. I look away, unable to contain the goosebumps suddenly exploding across the back of my neck with that same familiar uncomfortable sensation I keep getting around him these days. Like I’m standing atop a cliff and preparing myself to jump.

“Wanna dance?” 

I blink in surprise, before turning to the said young man beside me who has his head cocked to the side with that same expression. My heart can’t help but squeeze inside my chest before I push down the rising protest searing through my brain. 

I nod. And off we go onto the dance floor. His hands settle on my waist, mine atop his shoulders in a casual sling. There’s enough distance between our bodies to show that we’re not together and yet, I can’t deny that electrical tension that keeps on pulling me towards Kevin like a magnet. I wonder if he feels it too, that searing heat that is so palpable I can feel sweat break out from the back of my neck. Asking, though, would mean that I’m aware of what’s happening, asking would imply that I want something to happen.

Maybe I do. 

Maybe I do want to grab life by the reins myself and steer it wherever I want it to go. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

I blink. Right up into Kevin’s brown orbs, his hair catching the shades of blue from the disco balls. My throat runs dry. 

“Uh--” my mind tries to scramble for a response, any response, “just--uhm, it’s kind of like our last day here.” 

He cocks his head, “sad?” 

“Kinda. I like it here,” my eyes brush over Emma and Vincent’s forms in the vicinity, catch my grandma sitting at one of the tables, little cousins running all over the place. Then, I look back at the said young man gazing at me with that undecipherable look in his eyes that makes my heart sing, and try not to squirm as I continue softly, “it feels like home.” 

“We can always come back,” he uses ‘we’ as though it’s now an adventure kept between the two of us, a secret to our own little neverland that nobody knows about. I can’t help but smile at the thought. 

“Do you want to come back?” I ask.

“Are you kidding? Hell yeah I want to come back. The views are amazing, the food is out of this world, and your family has been really kind to me.” 

“I’m sorry, they are kind of overbearing when you first get to know them.” 

“I love it,” Kevin says seriously, “I love that they’re overbearing. Couldn’t have asked for anything more.” 

If I had any doubts, the sincerity dripping from his eyes is enough to wipe out any suspicions left from his compliment. The sudden urge to hug him rocks through me and my hands fist on the back of his shirt in response. 

We keep on dancing silently, bobbing from one foot to another for a few minutes more before he speaks up softly. 

“Y/N?” 

“Hm?” 

“I wouldn't mind getting married here.” 

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “really now?” 

“Yup,” he grins, “really.” 

“Your future wife will have me to thank for that.” 

“Maybe my future wife won’t have to thank you.” 

There it is. That same borderline flirting that’s been happening for days on end. 

“And why is that?” I probe, partly just to tease him, and partly because I just want to know.

“Maybe she might be right here, in this room.” 

“Didn’t know you were into one of my cousins,” I start looking around the room, only for one of his hands to cup my cheek to turn my face back to his. 

There is none of that teasing glimmer now. His eyes are darker, gazing down at me with such emotion that the breath catches in the back of my throat and the air halts in my lungs. We gaze at each other for a few beats longer, before I feel his thumb graze my cheek. Gently, so gently like he’d stroke a flower petal. 

Swallowing at the heat of his hand cupping the side of my face, my hands unconsciously tighten on the back of his neck. He senses my nervousness, but only pulls me slightly closer so that we are mere millimeters from each other, noses hovering over each other in a space that causes my heart to stutter inside my chest. 

When he opens his mouth next, his alto is hoarse, pent-up with emotion. 

“I wasn’t talking about your cousins.” 

My heart practically jumps to my throat, teeth biting onto my lip. 

I can’t hear the music, nor the people. I can’t hear anything except for my pounding heart and Kevin’s soft breaths washing over my face. 

His eyes search mine and we hold gazes for a moment too long.

“Y/N?” 

I press my lips together, “Y-Yes?” 

He moves even closer then so that his nose brushes mine in the most intimate of ways. 

“I--” 

“Y/N! I was looking all over for you!” 

We spring apart like we just got burnt just in time for one of my cousins to grab onto my arm. He sends an apologetic smile at Kevin, before explaining, “we just need to sort out the takeaways. She’ll be back in a second!” 

And without listening to my protests, he proceeds to drag me away from the said young man on the dancefloor. I look back, mouthing an ‘I’m sorry” once more -- it’s the second time that night!-- and see the raven-haired man laugh good-naturedly before shaking his head and waving me away. That does nothing to keep my heart from cartwheeling out of my chest, swelling up with such affection that I grin back despite the earlier predicament. 

One thing’s for sure: I’m not done talking with Kevin Moon yet. 

----------

I find him sitting alone in the tiny garden that overlooks the decorated pavillon a few hours later. His figure, illuminated by the soft yellow hues of interior light, seems to glow in the dark, the moon bouncing off his hair and catching the strength of his cheekbone when he turns and catches me staring. He only smiles though -- that beautiful tender smile that I keep seeing more and more these days -- before waving me over. 

“What are you doing out here all alone?” I ask as I reach his figure. A soft breeze dances along the back of my spine, cool in contrast to the warm stickiness of the air. 

“Your smaller cousin was showing me what she’d learnt in astronomy at her school,” he tilts his head up at the sky, “she’s quite the prodigy at that.” 

“The next woman to land on the moon,” I joke.

“Jeez, I should get her autograph.” 

“Wise idea,” that’s when I feel his hand slip into mine and I look down at him, blinking. He grins a little shyly, before tugging me forward so that I all but stumble right into him, halfway sprawled across his lap. 

Heat explodes through my chest at the proximity of our bodies and I can’t help but avert my gaze from his, partly embarrassed that maybe there might be someone around to see, and partly because it’s only recently that I’ve started seeing Kevin in a new light that being so close makes my heart choke up and my mind to run blank. 

We’re close. So close I feel his breath mingle with mine. My hands settle atop his chest lightly, “Kev,” I breathe out but nothing follows, too scared to verbally voice out what is going on for fear that it might all crumble into nothing. 

I don’t want false hope. I also don’t want his heart -- or mine -- to break. 

This friendship is too precious to let go. I can’t imagine a life without Kevin in it.

“Listen Y/N,” Kevin’s voice is soft, a hushed murmur resonating through his chest as his eyes search mine, “I think we both know what’s happening here.” 

I nod mutely. 

Taking a shaky breath, he continues, “I don’t want to do anything that will hurt you. I know it’s been tough and that you’re still healing. I just--I just want to know.” 

As his words wash over me as gently as the forest leaves rustling around us, I feel the warmth of his hand cupping my cheek, holding me like I am fine china and stroking my skin with his thumb so that butterflies suddenly rush along my middle.

I bite my lip so hard I can taste blood, " I-- well, I think you already know how I feel."

"I know," he breathes, "but I need to hear it from you."

As if it isn't hard enough to come face to face with my own feelings, having Kevin stare me down as though I put the moon in his sky makes me want to squirm with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. 

“I like you,” I blurt out then, “a lot.” 

There is a few seconds delay, before a shit-- eating grin --the biggest I’ve ever seen -- spreads across Kevin’s face like sunshine peeking through the clouds.

“Enough for us to go on a date?”

I nod mutely. I don’t trust my voice, not right now when I already feel so pathetic. Kevin’s grin softens into a tender smile, one that I can’t help but return when our eyes meet in the most intimate of ways. Suddenly, the air feels charged and alive with electricity, the heat between our bodies palpable as his hand moves to the back of my neck. 

He tugs. I follow. 

His lips find mine mid-way in a delicate kiss. 

It’s soft. Softer than any kiss I’ve ever had. Kevin’s mouth parts over my own in a gentle caress, before he tilts his head to the side and captures my lower lip between his. 

I gasp slightly at the contact, hands unconsciously tightening around his neck. 

Slowly leaning away, I notice the film of lust like a dull glow at the back of his maroon orbs, just the slightest hint that he wants me as a woman. And that makes my lungs constrict, air suddenly halting in the back of my throat.

My skin is prickling with the aftermath of his touch. I let out a soft breath before he covers my mouth with his once more and all thoughts fly out of my brain the moment he does. 

I don’t really know how long we spend outside, exchanging the softest of kisses underneath the moonlight, until I hear the soft exclamations of my family’s voices suggesting that it is time to head home. So I part from the said man and can’t help but blush at the lack of space between our bodies.

“We should probably head back,” I hate how wanton I sound, like I’ve just sprinted a mile when in truth I’ve been sitting in this very spot for the last hour.

He agrees and I descend from his lap, his hand subtly finding mine as we walk back to the wedding hall. 

Emma is still saying her goodbyes, her hair now dotted with glitter, probably from the decorations that my younger cousins took pleasure in bathing her in. Her face lights up as soon as she spots our entwined hands and I try not to meet her eyes for I know exactly the kind of smug look she'll be giving me. 

"Enjoyed the wedding?" She says as soon as we're within earshot.

"That must've been the best cake I've had in my life," Kevin lets out a dramatic sigh, "and that says something."

"Do I trust your taste buds though?" She teases.

"I'd be offended if you didn't," he gasped in mock offense, before they both break into playful chuckles.

As we exchange our goodbyes and Vincent engages Kevin in a conversation, Emma takes this chance to drag me to her side as she whispers, "so you gonna tell me the tea or am I going to have to extract it from you?"

I press my lips together as I try to control the heat searing through the back of my neck, "...we kissed."

She gasps, "No way! OH MY GOD! Are you guys a thing then?!" The answer is as clear as water on my face and she clamps a hand over her mouth, would've jumped up and down if she could've, "OH MY, OH MY GOD. I knew it! I just knew this was going to happen--"

"Shut up!" I hiss, scared that Kevin might overhear and think I'm a big fat tattle tale. My eyes quickly swivel over to his and I'm glad to find his head bent towards Vincent in concentration. 

"You need to tell me everything," Emma's eyes are sparkling, "like--as soon as you have some free time."

"You--" I send her a pointed look, then jerk my head at Vincent, "--need to tell me everything."

"Oh I will, don't worry."

"Anyway, I'll talk to you after your honeymoon."

"Okay," I turn around to find Kevin, not failing to notice the smirk playing on Emma's lips. I slap her arm in response, causing her to laugh before she calls out: 

"Don't forget to use protection!"

-----------

"We'll come back right?"

That's the first thing that Kevin states as soon as we step inside security, away from the tears of my family that I just left behind a few seconds ago. My heart still aches when I think of their faces, all crumpled and blinking at me with tissues in hand and noses as red as traffic lights. But I seek comfort upon feeling Kevin's hand slip through mine as we walk towards our destined gate. 

"Sure," I look at him; at his red-tinted cheeks (probably the aftermath of a sunburn), his newly tanned skin a fresh contrast against his white shirt, and the permanent grin that seems impossible to wipe off his face. My heart instantly flutters.

It's only been a few days since we've confessed our growing romantic interest in each other, but I can already feel the weight of his love pouring out of his heart and into mine the moment he realized that my arms would be there to catch him when he fell.

"I'm not going to wake up to an empty bed tomorrow morning, am I?" He’d joked when we stumbled, half-asleep, into Emma's flat after the wedding. 

I frowned at him, "Why would you think that?"

"Just in case you think that kissing me was a mistake."

A small pause ensued, in which I realized that despite all my fears and all the pain I had been carrying in my heart ever since we landed on my motherland, I had not once considered how Kevin might be feeling at this very moment. 

My eyes quickly took note of his countenance, sweeping right up to his face only to notice the flash of vulnerability in his eyes, the way the corners of his mouth were tense, cheekbones taught against his skin as he awaited for my answer with baited breath. 

Clearing my throat, I whispered, "it wasn't."

A soft smile tugged at his lips, "good to know."

His answer seemed so genuine, so wholehearted that my chest tightened in a mixture of gratefulness and affection, so much so that my arms automatically reached for him to tug him close. My nose found its rightful place at his neck and I breathed in his comforting  lilac smell that I enjoyed so much.

I felt him take a breath. Then, softly, a hand caressed the back of my head. I buried even closer if that was possible.

"I really want this to work," my words were a muffled mess and I was surprised that he understood.

"Me too," he murmured into my hair, "and it will work. I promise I won't break your heart Y/N."

Looking back now at this tender moment in which we both weren't certain of where we were stepping, I can't help but laugh at the thought, for now the love and attraction is so natural I'm amazed it has taken this long to flourish. 

Maybe I hadn't been looking the right way. Maybe I had been searching so far out and wide that I hadn't noticed that my safe harbour is the one standing right beside me.

"Hey Kevin," I call out.

Kevin turns towards me, where he'd been watching planes take off from the ground into the gorgeously blue sunny sky.

"Yeah?" 

“I’m really glad you came.” 

There's a few beats of silence although his mouth immediately cracks into that gorgeous, crooked grin of his that I adore so much. 

“Me too.” 

----

[donkey-hyuck]

word count- 2.5k+

genre- FLUFFY | neighbor!au

characters/pairings- neighbor!jeno x reader (gender neutral) | dreamies

warnings- language | dialogue heavy | over usage of words bc i’m irrelevant | the cutest people ever

introduction- since moving to the city— closer to your university— you noticed that your cat had taken an interest in another cat from the apartment building across from yours. she seemed very intrigued and things only escalated. in a good way for the both of you. because who knew such a good looking guy owned three cats he was allergic to?

a/n- based on some ‘the dodo’ story i saw a couple months ago and it was so cute hehe. also yes this is another jeno drabble thingy okay. and idk where the divider is from, i just have it on my phone sorry :(

the last box you had packed prior was finally set in your new apartment by your brother.

“this is the last one, right? because i’m not helping you anymore,” he huffed out a breath and rested his hands on his thigh. you snorted out a laugh and responded, “lazy ass. yeah, this is the last box. thanks for coming.”

you invited your brother to stay a bit later to treat him for takeout but he declined and reassured you he was fine and was going to head home. nodding your head, you just agreed as you walked him to the door.

it was only about six p.m. when you decided to unpack the rest of the boxes that you and your brother had brought up. when walking back into the living room, the shades to the window were still opened and you saw your cat, bomi, sitting by the window peering through the opened shades. the apartments from the complex across from yours were the same as any others. many university students or young adults filled the rooms, some curtains were closed, and some were lit up by the LED lights that lined their ceilings. but one window was opened. it showcased the large tv the stranger had as well as three cats by the window as well. one of them was even similar to bomi. however you thought nothing of it, too tired of driving back and forth and bringing boxes up and down. so you closed everything in for the night after unpacking about three or four boxes.

the following morning, you walked to the kitchen. and through the opened kitchen was your living room which you saw bomi sitting at the window again. you had called her over and put the cat food in the bowl for her breakfast. after leaving bomi for her breakfast, you grabbed your laptop from your bedroom and sat on the couch to finish some work and answer emails from your new university. moments of rereading emails stopped when you looked up— for no particular reason— and saw the same cats that caught bomi’s attention by the window. and then the shade was opened. oh wow.

the owner of the cats was a male. you didn’t want to assume but he looked as though he was around the same age as you. and he was cute. really fucking cute. the guy that opened the shade was wearing a pair of adidas track pants and was shirtless. and you just stared at him, as creepy as it looked and sounded like. by his feet were his three cats and bomi was sat next to the window once again.

“bomi, what’s wrong with you all of a sudden?” you asked and grabbed her small body and sat back on the couch. “do you want friends now? are you lonely because we moved?” you joked to yourself and scratched behind her ears. but once you set her free from your grasp, she sat by the window and you noticed one of his cats was looking at bomi. just as you were about to put away your laptop, bomi got up and walked around the perimeter of the window with her head still facing out the ceiling-to-floor window.

your eyes followed her feline figure and an idea shot up from your noggin. you didn’t know if it would work but it was worth a shot. so you went to your car and drove to a nearby craft store to buy some poster boards and markers. when you got home, you contemplated in your mind for a couple minutes before just going for it. fuck it. you wrote the poster as if you were in bomi’s body. and you thought it was a bit childish and unrealistic but it was worth a try.

‘hi, i’m bomi from the apartment complex next door. i see you three cats, do you wanna be friends?’ unbelievable. absolutely unbelievable. but you just taped it up on the window and closed the shade just enough for you not to see if he responded and got ready to go to your job. this was never going to work.

—

when you got home, the sun was just barely setting and bomi was once again, sitting by the window and looking out into that apartment. you sighed to yourself and picked her up before opening the shade to see if the cats— or more so the boy— had responded.

thankfully, the boy didn’t reply and it calmed your nerves down a bit more. the entire day you were away at work, thoughts filled your head about all the possible outcomes that could happen. without realizing, you breathed out in relief and set down bomi to get ready to eat dinner and shower. all the while, you forgot about the poster and there it was— left taped on the window.

donghyuck, renjun, and chenle had been over jeno’s apartment that day when they saw the poster taped on your window.

“jeno! who’s bomi?” exclaimed hyuck with his brows raised up and down, playfully. jeno got up from his seat at the kitchen island when he looked out the window behind his couch. he then just shrugged but did not miss the cat that looked somewhat like seol. then renjun spoke, “maybe it’s that cat. hey, doesn’t she look a little like seol?” chenle went toward the window to put his two cents into the conversation, “hey, she kinda does! what if she’s looking at your cats, jeno?” he asked and pointed out the window. “we should write back!” he then said with a bright smile on his face.

“we can, but i don’t have any poster paper right now,” he excused. though the boys thought he was lying they suggested that they would go to the nearest corner store to buy some cheap poster papers to reply to you.

and they did, but around ten at night when you were long gone from your living room and asleep in your bed. bomi wasn’t at the window either, but they still decided to write the letter for you in the morning.

‘i’m seol, the one that looks like you. the one with the black is nal and the one with the gray stripes is bongshik. it’s nice to meet you!’ read the sign. jeno could not believe he was writing back to a stranger he’s never even seen before. but it was whatever, new friends for his cats, he figured. the male held the sign in front of him for a minute before just shaking his head and taping the poster to his window and he was out for the night.

—

the morning you woke up, you had set a reminder to yourself that your classes started today and got up from your bed to make breakfast for both you and your kitty. opening the shade to the window, bomi was pawing and softly meowing at the window.

noticing the paper still stuck on the window, you mentally curse yourself out and look to the opposite side of your building. there was also a piece of poster paper that was taped onto the window with his three cats under it, looking out into the city. you identified the three cats immediately.

“bomi look! you really do look like seol. they can be your friends instead of those alley cats back home,” you spoke to her and then got ready to attend your nine a.m. class. however before putting on your shoes, you wrote back a little note for the cats on the opposite building.

‘great! y/n (my owner) is at university but let’s meet some day!’ you still could not believe you were doing this as you finished taping up the board. you left it there for the day as you went to your classes for the next couple hours.

throughout your first classes, your mind always went back to what happened the last few days. your neighbors as well as his neighbors must’ve thought you were both crazy. but anything for your cats.

—

for some reason when you got home, you were in a rush to see if the boy had responded to the message you left that morning. and in all hell, he did.

‘hey! jeno (our owner) is on his way to class too! and yes, let’s definitely meet one day! our owners can meet too!’

when jeno awoke that morning, he was shoving cereal down his throat and looked at your window. his heart was beating faster as he read over the note and ran to put away his bowl and get ready for his class. though he didn’t forget to write back at you, even if you probably wouldn’t see it until later.

with the cap of the marker in his mouth, jeno quickly wrote down what he was going to say and messily taped the poster to his window and left his house. he was almost late for his nine a.m. class.

watching the students come in you noticed the owner of bongsik, nal, and seol come into the room. oh shit. you tried to hide yourself behind the screen of your laptop when you remembered that he’s probably never seen you before. so slowly, you escaped your little hideaway and kept your identity on the low. because he might have seen you in broad daylight when your shades were up. but he didn’t, so you were safe.

—

looking at the message taped to his window, you wrote back.

you were sitting on the carpet floor of the living room when jeno finally saw you; specifically your side profile but he wasn’t complaining. you were doing the same thing he was that morning— the marker cap in your mouth with your brows furrowed.

he then saw your face when you sat up and got the roll of tape to stick on the glass. and you too, saw him looking at you with a smile on his face. your jaw was slightly dropped and the cap of the marker fell from your mouth as the boy laughed at your expression, then he waved. your eyes were opened wide and you shyly waved back.

jeno read over the note you just wrote. ‘hi i’m y/n (sorry this whole thing was so weird but my cat would not stop meowing at yours) but we could meet at the park? if you’d like?’ he smiled even more as he read over your writing. jeno nodded and asked ‘is it okay if we meet now?’ to which you shook your head ‘yes’ and were on your way to the nearest park (which was a measly three minute walk from your apartment.) then, you realized you never specified a park and just hoped he came to this one.

your hands were in your pockets as you awkwardly looked around to see the cute boy that lived across the street. he came up from behind you and greeted, “hi, i’m jeno.”

upon the sudden talk, you slightly jumped and turned around as he laughed again, his eye smile on full display.

the two of you walked around the park and conversed for what seemed like a couple minutes. but after you exchanged numbers and arrived home, you realized you had been at the park for a good hour and a half. holy shit.

you found out a little bit more about lee jeno. he was allergic to cats yet he still adopted three (which was beyond the epitome of cute), that he also moved to the city around a year ago, and that you two were attending the same nine a.m. class. you two had so much in common, huh?

arriving home to his apartment, jeno laid on his bed with his hand over his heart. it was beating fast. who knew his cats would bring him someone so attractive?

just as he was thinking about you, seol jumped on his bed and knocks were heard from his front door. he rolled his eyes and got up from his bed, it was his best friends staying for the night. it was a friday, after all.

while hanging with his best friends he decided to message you to see what was popping i hate that i said that lmao. and through the next two movies, jeno was not paying attention. he’d look to see what was happening here and there but always trained his eyes back to his phone.

“ayy why are you on your phone?” teased jaemin and hyuck.

“yeah, who are you texting this time at night?” said mark and jisung.

“and why are you texting someone?” poked chenle and renjun.

none of these questions were barely answered because jeno was too busy smiling at his screen. but then mark looked over his shoulder to see that jeno was texting you.

“ayyy, who’s y/n?” mark raised his voice and hit jeno’s strong bicep. just as your name exited mark’s mouth, jaemin’s eyes lit up and knew who you were.

“oh my god, that’s soojin’s new neighbor!” he shouted and stood up from the couch.

“jeno’s got a (boy)girlfriend! jeno’s got a (boy)girlfriend! jeno’s got a (boy)girlfriend!” the six boys jumped from their seats and chanted. renjun then reminded them that you lived across the street and they ran to the window to see if you were there. unfortunately for them, your shades were closed and the only thing they were able to see was bomi.

“hey doesn’t that cat kinda look like seol?”

the next day (after his friends had left), jeno invited you to come to his apartment so that bomi could meet his three cats, two which you agreed and packed whatever bomi needed. you weren’t going to stay there long, right?

—

when bomi met bongshik, nal, and seol, the four of them kicked it off nicely. there was no hissing nor scratching and it made both you and jeno happy to see that your cats were getting along after never having a meeting. so while your cats played around in jeno’s apartment, he offered to let you stay for dinner. you were hesitant at first but agreed as he ordered some soju and chicken. predictable.

to you, jeno was being nice. though he was cute, you didn’t really know who he was and so you didn’t have a reason to catch feelings for him. but to jeno, you were more of a crush. not a big one since you both just met, but a tiny one. he knew you were a good person at heart and he couldn’t help the little emotions that he felt in his chest.

—

after many play dates between your pets, you did actually start to form feelings for lee jeno and he finally had the guts to ask if you wanted to go on a date.

“i thought you would never ask.”

and though it all deemed impossible and like a fairytale, you were glad you spoke up that day. because in the end, you got a boyfriend that was loving, and your cats had each other to play with.

[grandinventor]

At the risk of sounding like a Jindosh apologist here (I am.) I will preface that Jindosh is a bad guy, he has either killed people personally or got them killed for experiment purposes by his Clockworks and has dissected the dead so he is not good, he is a villain, I acknowledge that.

Now with that out of the way I wanna criticize the narrative surrounding him and his mansion and how it sometimes falls flat on it’s face trying to demonize them thanks to a lot of points my friend @divaythfyr​ brought up. I’ll put all of that below the cut:

Yesterday I was told this line and I won’t lie it is...bad. Line in question: 

Billie: "His home is supposed to be full of marvels. Locals go in as a test of courage, or because they're desperate for a meal. Kids, even. People say you can hear them at night, pounding on the windows, calling for help."

But because I couldn’t live with the idea that he kills children you know the simplest villain demonization tactic in writing history (kick the puppy, kick the child whatever) and I think it’s pretty cheap to try and make him worse than Sokolov, I talked to the Jindosh apologist committee and thot about it so I’ll go over this line by line. 

1. "His home is supposed to be full of marvels.“ - Okay but isn’t his home also supposed to be scary? Isn’t the whole “Why would anyone build a scary mansion like this?” line from Emily/Corvo as they enter supposed to tell us that this is a scary place? Which is funny because in reality the mansion itself isn’t scary at all, in fact it’s extremely logical in the way it unfolds and exposes the rooms. It’s perfectly functional and as someone with a major in architecture, I can say it’s the best designed house in terms of organization in the game. There is no way to die in the mansion unless the Clockwork Soldiers and the guards get you - which goes for literally any important/rich person’s house? You walk in someone’s house uninvited and their guards get you. You can die if you get behind the walls but it’s extremely difficult to do so especially in the places where you can get squished. The house itself is completely harmless. So the whole idea from Jindosh’s end that it’s a maze is stupid on it’s own too, the house is perfectly logical and Stilton’s manor is an actual maze because I got lost 10 times in there. 

2. “Locals go in as a test of courage, or because they're desperate for a meal.“ - okay first part is correct people go in his house to either steal, test their skills or kill him. He says as much himself. He says fabled thieves and assassins died there. Again probably from his guards and Clockworks since you can’t die from the house in any rational way. And then he dragged them half dead or dead in his lab to dissect them. He has a fascination with watching people die because he is like evil and a villain like that. Which brings me to the next point which is:

There are only two ways to get in his mansion without powers. There is the bridge below which is broken and the railway which is guarded and has a Wall of Light on the other end. So how will anyone that is not prepared with a grappling hook or some kind of way to close this gap gonna get in? How is your random average person gonna go in? And most importantly why? Do people just walk in aristocrat’s houses and expect not to get out in a body bag or? 

Besides he has a) a lot of free food and drinks in the lobby which is his threshold as to how far you are allowed to go so if someone wanted food they can just walk in and take it and leave (after you know, scaling a mountain for whatever reason because there aren’t easier houses to steal from) and b) he has an audiograph, because I am sure he assumes people can’t read, which tells you “Do not enter or you will die and I will dissect your remains and this is a promise.” Like why add a warning if you wanna lure people in? Unless those people think they can outsmart him so they come with intent and not just because they need food/shelter. Also he has food right next to that audio. 

3. “Kids, even.“ - okay this one, the scary line. I won’t lie this made me uncomfortable. So like if we assume that normal people can enter by normal means (which in point 2 is clear they can’t unless further elaborated by the game on How? and Why?), a child going in as a dare and dying is possible. Billie after this line goes on to say that she saw a child dare his brother to touch the wall of light which vaporized the child, so the implication is possible. It’s possible a child went in his mansion as a dare and bad things unfolded. It’s also equally possible that it didn’t. We know of adult men dying because we see the bodies. For this one is just a rumor. You can take it either way depending on how you feel about Jindosh. It’s very unlikely a child would get this far though, unless this was some kind of Disney movie. Also Jindosh wouldn’t personally have a reason to kill a child you know, like I know it’s the easiest “this villain is super evil!!!!” writing tactic, but he had a pretty shitty childhood, he felt hated by his mother and probably wasn’t treated so nicely by his (bastard) brother. He likes to exercise his lack of control during his younger years by having control over other people through his house and toying with them. He is very childish in a sense too (with his toy house and toy soldiers), and because of all of this I truly don’t think he would kill a child. He wants a real challenge and to test out his machines and his house against the best and smartest Karnaca can offer, not children. Though my opinion here can be highly biased. 

Also many children can casually pull 6ft tall levers I’m sure--

4.  “People say you can hear them at night, pounding on the windows, calling for help." - we know people have died in the mansion and they have been crying for release, as he says so himself. But again the above points kind of challenge as to who these people that died inside were. However because you know I’ve been playing with his mansion for four years cause I am a dumb hoe, I can say that there are very little windows. In fact the majority of windows that aren’t blocked off by the cliff or the mechanisms are around his laboratory.

 Now yes people could go there and bang on them sure. But they literally...face the lab and chances are no one is gonna hear you bang on that side. The other windows not facing the lab are in the foyer where...you are allowed to be and nothing is gonna happen to you. 

And the windows that actually face a side where let’s say someone could hear if someone was banging are the windows on the front of the house. Only the thing is, there are no windows on the front of the house except in the foyer. 

Here are the buildings from across his mansion which I guess can maybe hear if someone was banging on the windows. But again no windows on the front of the house. 

The fake windows is where the mechanism for the ceiling over the gallery in the upper hall is. The one that kinda extends and unfolds from there. So isn’t entirely possible that the banging and screaming or whatever people heard is just...the mechanisms of his house? The scary evil child killing house? Which is actually moving and making a lot of noise at all times?

So in conclusion? Yes, Jindosh is bad, he has no regard to human life, he divides society as innocent bystanders and criminals. He does dream of an army of Clockwork Soldiers to eradicate all crime. Be, he isn’t a senseless killer, it’s his neutrality and fascination with death as well as his black and white thinking that makes him dangerous. He doesn’t see people as human. In the majority of cases we know of (except one for some reason? That cursed baker who got his brain fried why did you have to do that Jindosh!?) he experiments on people who he deems criminals without sympathy. Also in situations where he thinks it’s justified - breaking in to steal from him or hurt him, the Blade Verbena, prisoners that can actually provide a learning experience for his Clockworks and Sokolov. He doesn’t go kidnapping people off the streets to experiment on them. 

And despite his evilness being completely logical, the whole game tries to paint his mansion as this big puzzle and trap when in reality it’s...really just a house. The level design is beautiful and amazing but I think it doesn’t really carry the point as strongly simply because it’s not any more dangerous than any other mission and it’s just more fun when it comes to gameplay. The design is great but it never gave me the feeling of it being a horror house. So I think that demonizing Jindosh through hearsay instead of through his actual mission is a bit of a weird choice. A lot of things don’t reflect how evil he is, but not in the good way of “The Grand Inventor doesn’t seem evil but he is.” and instead you get it hammered how evil he is from the start without actually ever experiencing a climax of his evilness you wouldn’t expect. It’s not that every story should have a twist, but usually when you say someone is evil, you either make them good at the end or even more evil. Jindosh never has that climax, he is the same start to finish and that is... mildly annoying and slightly threatening. Like his level is pretty but not scary and they keep trying to convince you it’s scary which makes it weird which I guess is because if you listen to a lot of his unused lines and old concept art, he was supposed to be this stereotypical mad scientist but in the end they changed his visual design and lines so much he comes off as lukewarm. I understand what they tried to do with Jindosh but I feel like they failed to do it and had to rely on everyone saying he is super irredeemably evil to justify lobotomizing him.

Anyway this post is too long, sorry if the read more doesn’t go through somewhere and please feel free to counter my points I am open to different and non biased views (or even information I might not know because I haven’t read the books or found everything).